Romulus: Seeds of Unity
by Aconitum-Napellus
Summary: Set five weeks after the end of Vulcan: Secrets of the Sand - Spock starts to show signs of mental breakdown. Together with McCoy, he leaves the ship to discover why. Again written when I was about 15, again being revised as I post. No pairing.
1. Prologue, & Chapter 1

Prologue.

The towering bulk of Pnauh'Kmaghe spread a great shadow over the empty Vulcan desert. The sand around was pitted with footprints that would soon disappear after the late evening winds touched the ground. It was five weeks since Spock of Vulcan had opened the tomb of the first ten kings of Vulcan, who reigned long before the Vulcan-Romulan separation. They had ruled a civilisation and culture that was in some ways more advanced than the present one, but had been lost to the passionate Vulcans' savage wars. But Spock had found the Katra of Suaniak, the last king, still existing in the tomb, still conscious and thinking after so many centuries, with the knowledge of the history that barely covered a page in current Vulcan textbooks.

A few lucky scientists – those related to the kings by blood, as Commander Spock was – had been permitted by Suaniak to be transported inside the structure, to record the magnificent texts of history and worship written on the walls. The Vulcans were still working as hard as ever, but the rush of scientists and historians from every planet, the sceptics, and simple tourists, had eased off from a continuous presence to simply a few hours during the cooler evenings and morning, now the first excitement had worn off.

Now, in the quiet after even the Vulcans were gone, Suaniak, Tenth King of Vulcan, last in that line, was summoning all his remaining powers of telepathy to contact a half-Vulcan that lived on a ship currently posted hundreds of light years away.

1.

Doctor Leonard McCoy slipped in through Spock's door on his way to the _Enterprise_ recreation deck. For tonight, the small gymnasium there had been transformed into a comfortable, decorated room large enough to hold half the crew if they got a little friendlier than usual. He had slipped in earlier and seen the full buffet tables and casually arranged seats, all in preparation for Jim Kirk's birthday celebration.

Now he had come to find Spock, thinking he may as well walk with the Vulcan to the gym. But when he rounded the corner to Spock's sleeping area, he was surprised to see the Vulcan seated in one of his wooden chairs in the dim scarlet light, plucking out disjointed, discordant notes on his Vulcan lyre.

'If you're gonna play that thing, at least play it properly,' he said by way of greeting. 'I'm ready. Are you coming, Spock?'

Spock lifted his head to regard McCoy, his eyes iron hard, and unreadable. He put the lyre aside, and stood up.

'I will not be attending the informal gathering, Doctor. I have work to do.'

'I always knew you had ice where your Vulcan heart should be. It's not an informal gathering. It's a *_party*_,' McCoy protested. 'Come on, Spock. It's Jim's birthday. Everyone else is going.'

'Then I will be needed to take care of the ship.'

Spock walked into the corridor, acting as if McCoy didn't exist. The doctor followed him, determined not to let him get away that easily.

'Spock, maybe parties aren't Vulcan style, but you're his best friend,' he insisted. 'You have to come.'

'I do not *_have*_ to do anything,' Spock said flatly. 'I will not be attending. I do not find any kind of gain in going to such disorganised, illogical, undisciplined gatherings, and to be quite frank, I am surprised and disappointed that the captain is even allowing it to take place.'

McCoy stopped in his tracks, his mind hazed with fury. He began to attack again, really angry now.

'Why, you damn pointed-eared, half-bred mongrel! Haven't you even got an ounce of feeling in that crossbred car-'

The doctor broke off mid-word when he realised what he was saying, seeing a flicker of pain in Spock's eyes. He shook his head. Perhaps he had gone too far, but he was not about to apologise.

'I guess it's no use wasting my breath,' he said sourly. 'I thought you were Jim's friend, but I guess you can't be bothered with illogical things like that. It'd mean a lot to him, but if you don't care... Go do your precious work then.'

'Thank you, Doctor,' Spock nodded politely. 'I shall.'

Spock turned on his heel, heading for the bridge. McCoy fumed for a while, then turned in the opposite direction, a small parcel wrapped in gaudy paper tucked under his arm. When he reached the gym, it was already half full. He spent a moment glancing over the small groups of people dotted about the room, then caught sight of Kirk, sitting in a chair in the corner, trying not to look conspicuous.

'Jim, happy birthday!' the doctor hailed him loudly.

'I really didn't want all this,' the captain tried to protest, as McCoy joined him.

'You deserve it, though.'

Kirk shrugged, deciding that a recreation room filled with half of the crew was not the place to argue.

'Where's Spock?' he asked hopefully. 'Is he coming along later?'

The doctor's expression changed in an instant.

'Spock – has work to do,' McCoy said stiffly. 'He's too busy to wish his captain happy birthday. He's looking after the ship.'

'I guess someone should,' Kirk said, but McCoy could hear his tone was dampened. 'That's a Vulcan's loyalty for you.'

'I thought he might be a little more loyal to his captain than his ship.'

'Well, he did give me a present this morning,' Kirk told the doctor, trying to defend the Vulcan despite his sense of hurt. 'It was a native Erianian sculpture – a lovely piece of artwork. And you know Vulcans don't like parties. All this standing shoulder to shoulder, touching people, food and loud music. He's probably trying to avoid a headache, and ensure that at least one person doesn't have a hangover tomorrow morning. Mind you,' he added in a more disgruntled tone, 'he's been acting like he's got a permanent hangover recently.'

'He has been acting a bit – off the planet?' McCoy suggested.

'Off everything,' Kirk grunted. 'Something's disturbing him. I just hope it isn't another of those life-or-death, break-all-the-rules-in-the-book crises with his personal biology.'

'Well - happy birthday,' McCoy said again quickly, shoving the parcel into Kirk's arms, and steering off the subject of Spock before the discussion of his moods could start to ruin the party.

'Bones, you shouldn't have,' Kirk gave the traditional response, then laughed as he turned the box over in his hands. 'What is it this time? A box of aspirin?'

He cast his mind back to a time when McCoy had neatly wrapped up a computer disc and given it to him. When he had put it in a nearby computer screen, it displayed a message of;

YOUR LAST CHECK-UP IS TWO WEEKS OVERDUE.

REPORT TO MEDICAL SECTION TOMORROW, 0900 HOURS.

'If I thought it'd help me get you into sickbay for regular checks, it would be,' McCoy grumbled. 'I never know what to get a starship captain for his birthday. But it's not a box of aspirin.'

Kirk tore away the paper, opened the clanking box, and took out –

'A melted piece of engine mechanics? Bones?'

'Just to remind you that even _Enterprise_ isn't indestructible,' McCoy said pointedly. 'And if she isn't, her captain certainly isn't. They both need servicing every now and then. That got melted on one of your speed jaunts, trying to push the _Enterprise_ above warp nine.'

'I'll treasure it, Bones,' Kirk grinned, absently stroking the warped and misshapen metal with one finger. He knew it would end up taking pride of place on one of his shelves – a souvenir of the ship, like Spock's burnt out dilithium crystal. Then he put it back in its box, and stood up.

'I guess I'll have to mingle, Bones.'

'Jim.' McCoy's soft call made him look down again. 'Jim, enjoy yourself,' he said firmly. 'Now that's a medical order.'

******

After the party, McCoy thought hard to himself, battling with his conscience. He remembered Spock's tight, drawn, sheet-white face when he had spoken, and the brief look of pain when McCoy had attacked him. He wondered how much his comments had affected the supposedly emotionless Vulcan – and how much sleep he had got recently. There had been dark rings around Spock's eyes – something that he'd hardly seen before in the Vulcan.

The doctor spent a moment at a computer terminal, trying to locate the Vulcan. It was not possible to locate individual human crewmembers on board the ship, but a Vulcan, with the differing body readings, was a simple task. The computer reported Spock in the park on the recreation deck. It seemed a strange place for him to be, considering he had said he had so much work to do, but when McCoy went into the small, artificial park housed on that deck he saw Spock seated cross legged on the grass, staring vacantly into the moving water of a small waterfall.

'Spock,' he called, striding over toward the Vulcan. 'I'm sorry about what I - '

He slowed when he realised the Vulcan was deep in meditation. He stopped in front of him, and stood looking at him, taking the chance to study his face harder than he had in the corridor earlier. Spock's face was pale, and the cheeks looked more hollow than usual. His eyes were dull and tired. McCoy pulled out his medical scanner for an accurate analysis of Spock's condition, but he pocketed it again when he saw Kirk wandering along the narrow path in the room.

'Jim,' he called, walking over to him. 'Happy birthday,' he smiled.

'That's the tenth time you've said that,' Kirk responded. 'Do you have to remind me I'm getting older? Were you talking to Spock?'

McCoy shook his head.

'Not talking. He's meditating, or whatever Vulcans do. Are you annoyed with him, Jim?'

'Not really… Well, I thought he could have turned up, at least for a few minutes,' Kirk admitted.

McCoy could see the captain was hurt by Spock's absence, but for the moment his concern was more taken up with Spock's abnormal behaviour than Kirk's natural sentiment.

'I really think something's wrong, Jim,' he said, looking over towards the Vulcan. 'He doesn't look well, and he's lost weight. Has he been over-working himself?'

'Not that I'm aware of,' Kirk shrugged, following McCoy's gaze. 'There isn't much to do, anyway. All we're doing is mapping. If anything, he's been in his room more than usual, only turning up for his scheduled shifts. But he's certainly not been himself. He's not talking. He responds to orders, with 'yes, sir' or 'no, sir', but he's hardly said more than that. I haven't played chess with him in ages. Bones, it's too soon for another of those mating drives, isn't it?' he asked anxiously.

'Far too soon,' McCoy nodded. 'Although it could be another of these Vulcan things. I'll consult my medical books, and keep an eye on him. I could haul him in for a check-up – '

'No, don't do that, Bones,' Kirk said quickly. 'I'm sure it's just a phase, and the last thing he needs is to be prodded and poked in sickbay.'

'Hmm,' McCoy said. 'Like I said, I'll watch him. And if nothing improves I'll schedule a check-up for next week. But you shouldn't be worrying about him today. Come over here and sit down,' he said, nodding towards one of the small benches in the park. 'Why don't you talk about something that isn't to do with the ship or the crew?'

'Like what?' Kirk shrugged as they sat.

'Like your memories of those wonderful bars on Janeo 5, and those lovely female dancers they have.'

Kirk laughed briefly. 'And how you managed to get me drunk, and I tried to speak their language, and almost ended up having to marry one of the dancers and all her sisters? No thanks, Bones.' His eyes strayed over to the Vulcan again. 'He seems to be turning in on himself, Bones. He hardly says a word about anything outside of duty. It's almost as if he's full of too much pain to speak. As if he's afraid of letting something out that he shouldn't. Bones, when Vulcans develop mental problems, aren't they liable to be ten times worse than humans?'

'Their brains are more complex, and they tend to let things build up behind their masks before anything gets through. At least we've noticed something, Jim. We can keep an eye on him. It must be a tremendous strain having all these half-human impulses, and never being able to act on them, or even show them a little. Spock feels pain, but he can never let anyone see it. Can't admit it even to himself.' McCoy sighed, then got to his feet. 'Don't worry about him, Jim. I'll keep an eye on him.' He pulled the captain up by his arm. 'Come on, Jim. Why don't you come with me to my room? I've got a film to show you. It should help you relax. It always has me in fits.'

'Sounds good. What is it?'

'They had a security camera in that bar on Janeo. I bought the tape from the owner.'

******

Kirk stepped onto the upper platform of the bridge, still trying to shake the image out of his head of himself, surrounded by eight eager dancing girls, trying to explain in poor Janeon that he really didn't want to marry any of them. The picture had been dogging him for two days. He scanned down a report of their findings in this sector, and found that helped push the picture from his mind. Then, with a clearer mind, he went over to the science officer's station, and put his hand on Spock's chair.

'Spock, have you got anything interesting on the sensors?'

'No, sir,' Spock said, not turning around.

His posture wasn't his normal attitude of rigid, semi-attention. Kirk would have sworn his first officer was slouching in his chair.

'Well, what have you got, Science Officer?' he asked.

'Nothing of interest, Captain.' Spock's voice was monotone. 'Mapping expeditions very rarely are of interest. Simply hours of tedious staring at the star field.'

'We all feel like that, Mr Spock,' Kirk said sharply, beginning to feel annoyed. 'There's nothing that makes you particularly special.'

'I am aware of that, Captain. I was simply – '

Kirk whirled the Vulcan's chair around to face him angrily. Spock reacted briefly to the movement, and then fell back into the listlessness that seemed to be plaguing him at the moment.

'Spock, snap out of it!' Kirk snapped, his patience spent. 'Whatever it is, just snap out of it!'

Spock looked at him for a moment through dull eyes, and for a moment Kirk thought he saw a plea for – something – as if Spock were crying out for help through those eyes. Then his head dropped again. He didn't show any indications of snapping out of it. If anything, his shoulders simply slumped a little lower.

'I have work to do in the bio-lab,' he said quietly, his eyes on the flashing lights of his console. 'If you will excuse me, sir.'

He got up from his chair on the bridge, and went towards the lift, his feet almost dragging behind him.

'Well, if you're going to carry on like this, Commander, I think you'd be better off not coming back to the bridge,' Kirk snapped after him.

Spock walked into the elevator. Kirk stared after him, wondering if he had gone too far in his anger, but he didn't bother to follow. He didn't see the point.

'Sir?' Sulu turned around from his station, looking at the lift doors. 'Sir, what's wrong with Mr Spock?'

'I don't know,' Kirk sighed, sitting down. 'I just don't know. I can only think that it's something Vulcan that we don't quite understand. I guess it's a phase, or something. Just – maybe we need to try to be patient, understanding. Try not to antagonise him, and wait for it to wear off. And – ' He looked over at the lift doors again. 'If he seems to want to talk... If he begins to talk to you – tell you something about – whatever this is, listen to him, no matter how busy you are. I want you to listen.'

Sulu looked at him curiously for a moment, then at the doors Kirk had been looking over to, wondering if whatever it was could be that bad. Then he nodded smartly, deciding not to ask questions, and simply said;

'Aye, sir.'

*****

On Vulcan, Suaniak reached out again from his tomb, and strengthened his hold. His thoughts reached a young child living on the edge of a Vulcan city, and the child's strong thoughts and memories of a certain person strengthened his own, pushing the message stronger and further than he could on his own, forcing the mind so far away out in space to listen, even if it did not understand what it heard.

Once that signal was familiar enough to carry it on without conscious thought, he concentrated his conscious mind on another, reaching further this time, reaching far out through the galaxy, past the Romulan neutral zone...

******

McCoy glanced at the chronometer, tapped his fingers on the table impatiently, then looked at the clock again. He was still waiting for Spock to turn up for his physical, half an hour after the appointed time. Spock had never been anything but on time for appointments. The doctor sighed, picked up a tricorder and medical kit, and went out of the door, deciding that if Spock wouldn't come to the physical, the physical would come to Spock. He recognised the back of Lieutenant Uhura disappearing down the corridor, and he jogged after her swiftly, an idea forming in his mind.

'Uhura!'

She turned back at his call.

'Yes, Doctor?' she asked with the natural poise that she always seemed to possess. 'Oh, I've already had this month's medical exam,' she said quickly, as he caught up with her. 'You did me a few days ago.'

'Yes, I know,' he smiled. 'Why does everyone always think I'm about to haul them off for a physical if I so much as call their name?'

'Because you usually are,' she smiled back. 'What did you want, sir?'

'I'm going to see Spock,' he explained. 'He's been acting rather strangely recently, and he hasn't turned up for his physical. I'd like to make sure he's okay.'

She shook her head. 'Of course, but I still don't understand why you want me.'

'I'd like you to come with me,' he told her. 'Something's definitely wrong, and maybe he'd speak to someone who isn't his doctor, or someone who isn't his captain. I know that you play your instruments together sometimes. You are one of his friends.'

'Well, I'll come with you, Doctor,' she said. 'But I'm not sure if I can help you. Mr Spock has been blunt to the point of rudeness recently. I didn't even see him at the Captain's birthday party. To be honest, he's acting as if we all never existed.'

'Now that's not fair, and you know it,' McCoy argued, always ready to defend Spock against someone else's attack despite his own readiness to criticise him. 'I guess he just thinks a party is a waste of time. Spock's different. He does things differently.'

'Not _*that_* differently, Doctor,' Uhura said pointedly.

'Well, maybe not,' McCoy admitted. 'But that's why I'm so worried about him. Vulcans are tight-lipped as Andorian shell worms about their feelings. He hasn't been acting right at all recently. Something's obviously wrong. Now, do you want to come with me?'

'I'll come to his door,' she decided. 'And if he won't talk to you, call me in.'

'Thanks,' he grinned. 'Come on, then. And just come in when you want to. I might need you. Or he might.'


	2. Chapter 2

2.

At McCoy's buzz the door to Spock's quarters hissed open, and the doctor went in quietly. The room was silent, and had an indefinable air of not having been tended to for days, despite the Vulcan's obvious presence. Spock was sitting at his desk, unmoving, staring intently at the computer screen.

'Spock?' the doctor began hesitantly to the blue back. 'I – er – I thought you might have forgotten your physical.'

Spock shook his head without turning round.

'A physical is unnecessary,' he said flatly. 'I know more of my own body than a human would. Since you have no reason to call an unscheduled physical I would prefer that you end your unwarranted interference in my personal life.'

'I have every right to order you to an examination if I believe it necessary,' McCoy began angrily. 'I thought something might be wrong, and I have to check that out.'

He broke off as he caught sight of the video running on Spock's computer screen. It was a copy of the _Enterprise_'s records – detailed videos of the bridge – just running and running, for no apparent reason.

'Spock.' McCoy started forward again, changing his tack to a more conciliatory gentleness. 'Spock, what's wrong? Why wouldn't you even come to Jim's party?'

'I trust it went well?' Spock asked. Only his mouth moved.

'Everyone enjoyed themselves,' the doctor nodded. 'Jim would have liked you to be there, though. Spock, I'm sorry about what I said then. About you being half- Well, I'm sorry, anyway. I really wasn't trying to hurt you, and I shouldn't have said it. I was angry, and I wasn't thinking.'

McCoy reached out to switch off the screen.

'Don't.'

Spock's hand gripped around his wrist and pulled it back. His eyes didn't move from the screen. McCoy stayed very still, waiting until the crushing force of the Vulcan's fingers eased on his arm enough for him to pull away.

'O-kay,' he said slowly, rubbing his wrist. He decided to tackle physical matters instead of mental ones, thinking that might be more acceptable to the Vulcan. 'Spock, when did you last eat?'

'I don't remember.'

'I asked the computer when you last ordered food from a replicator before I came down here. As far as I can make out, it's been twenty-three days, five hours, and thirty minutes since you had a proper meal. You should've been able to tell me that with more accuracy and without a pocket calculator. What about sleep?'

'I haven't needed to sleep.'

'For how long?'

'I cannot remember.'

'Spock, from the bio-readings I get from my scanner, I don't think you've slept for any good length of time for at least a month. You should be able to remember *_that*_, too.' McCoy knelt down by his chair. 'Spock, I don't know what's wrong, but I know when something's wrong it's harder for you. I know you can't talk about it like the rest of us can. But I'm here, any time you do want to talk.' Spock didn't answer. 'I just want you to tell me what's wrong, Spock,' he urged him, 'before you run yourself into the ground from lack of food and sleep.'

McCoy looked up into Spock's eyes. There was none of the shaking or jerking of crying, or the trembling lips, but abruptly he saw that Spock's eyes were brim full of tears, that slowly overflowed down onto pale, thin cheeks. McCoy rested a hand on the Vulcan's knee, not knowing how to comfort him when he didn't even know what was wrong. He closed both hands firmly around one of Spock's, trying to get through to the Vulcan that way. Then the door opened again, and Uhura came in with soft footsteps.

'I thought you might want – ' she began, but broke off at the sight of the Vulcan.

She came to kneel beside him, and touched Spock's free hand, pressing it to her cheek to try to warm it. She looked at his face, then looked to McCoy with worried shock.

'Doctor, does even he know we're here?' she asked.

The doctor shook his head.

'I don't know. He was talking, then he just stopped. I'll be honest, Uhura. I don't know what's wrong with him. Even with a full check up, I'm no Vulcan psychiatrist.'

He let go of the Vulcan's hand, and sat back. There was no indication that Spock had been comforted at all. The tears still ran down his cheeks, but there was no emotion accompanying them.

'Let's get him to sickbay, where I can keep an eye on him,' he decided. 'Come on, Spock,' he said gently, nudging at his arm.

Spock gave no response.

'Can he walk?' Uhura asked.

'Let's find out.'

McCoy took an unresisting arm as Uhura turned to the computer screen, that was still running the ship's records. She snapped the screen off, then took Spock's other arm. This time he made no protest at the turning off of the computer.

'Come on,' McCoy said, and they lifted Spock to his feet. He walked between them automatically, out of the door.

'Doctor, is he – is he really conscious, at all?' Uhura asked.

McCoy shook his head. 'I don't know. But let's try to get him to sickbay before too many people see him.'

Spock gave no indication that he saw, heard, or even felt them either side of him, but he walked steadily and silently between them. They turned into a lift, and McCoy ordered it to deck seven. The turbolift whooshed sideways, and took them down two levels, then the doors hissed open and they went out into the sickbay. The doctor took Spock straight into the privacy of his office and made him sit down in a chair there. Then he went to the doorway and called, 'Nurse Chapel?'

'Yes, sir,' she called from the ward, hurrying through to them. As she saw Spock on the other side of the room she asked in a low voice, 'What's happened this time?'

'Christine, don't be like that,' McCoy told her, reading the same disaffection in her voice that he'd noticed in plenty of other people's reactions to Spock recently. 'I know he's been a little – off – lately.'

'*_Off*_ – is an understatement,' she said crisply. 'I would say Mr Spock has been – a complete and utter ba-'

'Nurse!' the doctor snapped, cutting her off mid-word. 'Christine, how *_has*_ he been acting recently?' he asked her more gently. 'I'd like your point of view.'

She shrugged, but there was a definite expression of hurt on her face.

'He's been deliberately avoiding me – to the point of turning around in a corridor if he saw me coming. And when I managed to ask him if he was all right, he said – ' She shook her head, looking down at the floor, a red flush spreading across her cheeks. 'Well, he just wasn't very polite.'

'I guess he wouldn't want you to see him how he is right now,' McCoy told her. 'He wouldn't want anyone to see him like this.'

Christine looked at the Vulcan curiously. Spock had given no sign of being aware of the conversation, despite his excellent hearing. He looked almost catatonic.

'What *_is* _wrong with him, sir?' she asked, a deeper worry beginning to push away her hurt at his behaviour.

McCoy shrugged. 'I don't know, but I'm worried about him. I found him pretty much like this when I went to see him. He didn't turn up for his physical. Christine, he's sick, and I don't know why.'

'In the body, or – in the mind?' she asked hesitantly.

'Both. I've never seen a Vulcan have a nervous breakdown, but – Look at his face, Christine,' he said in a tone that said that explained it all.

Chapel came forward to look at him more closely, and gasped at the streaks of wetness on his face. Quickly she found a tissue, and wiped the tears from Spock's white cheeks.

'Is he crying, or just - '

McCoy shrugged. 'A Vulcan? You tell me. I think his body's crying, but his mind won't let him respond to it. There's no emotional release. Maybe that's what sent him into this. He's grieving, but he can't grieve – for what, I don't know.' He sighed. 'I found him watching recordings of the bridge. Just watching them. Not for any purpose I could see. Something's terribly wrong, but he won't say what – if he even *_knows* _what.'

'Should we put him to bed?' she asked.

McCoy looked baffled. 'He's not ill, exactly. Then again, he hasn't eaten or slept in weeks. He's certainly not fit for duty.' He put his hand on Spock's shoulder. 'Come on, Spock. Let's get you changed and into bed.'

Spock stood up, like a robot obeying commands, and let the nurse take him through to the ward.

'Shall I stay?' Uhura asked quietly.

McCoy turned round to her. In his focus on Spock he had almost forgotten that she was there.

'If you want to,' he said loosely. 'I'm not sure if _*anyone's_* going to get through to him at the moment. But can you call the captain down? That might be one voice that'll get to him.'

'Of course,' she nodded with a small smile.

'Oh, and – be discreet,' the doctor told her.

She raised her eyebrows in an expression of surprise. 'I always try to be discreet, Dr McCoy.'

She went to the intercom on his desk as McCoy went through to see Spock.

'He's oblivious to everything,' Chapel said despairingly. 'He didn't resist when I changed him. Lifted his arms for me to take his top off, and stood up when I wanted him to. But it wasn't as if he cared. I mean, normally he wouldn't want me to undress him – to touch him like that. But he didn't care. There's no indication that he even knows we exist.'

McCoy sighed, bending over the Vulcan in the bed. Spock lay absolutely still, staring up at the ceiling without seeing it.

'He's here, and he's alive, but his mind's off on some unreachable level. Spock,' he said clearly, touching the Vulcan's face. 'Spock, can you hear me?' He sighed again. 'If he doesn't want to come back – if he can't face whatever it is, then he just won't.'

'Forever?' Chapel asked.

'I can't answer that. I've got to find out what's making him so upset. For now, I'd like to get him to take a good sleep. I'll - '

The door to sickbay hissed open in his peripheral vision, and he went quickly through to cut off the captain before he came straight through into the ward.

'Bones?' Kirk asked as he came into the anteroom. 'What is it? Uhura just said that you needed me down here.'

'Jim, it's Spock,' he said straight away, putting a hand on his arm to stop him coming any further.

'What's happened?' Kirk asked anxiously. 'Is he ill?'

'I - I don't quite know, Jim,' he said cautiously. 'He's – not well. You better come with me,' he said, nodding his head towards the ward.

'You must have _*some_* idea what's wrong with him, Bones,' Kirk said as he followed the doctor into the ward. 'Is he hurt?'

'No. He's not hurt. He's – '

Kirk went forward to Spock's bed. It was instantly obvious that something was wrong. The Vulcan appeared to be completely unaware of his presence.

'Bones, is Spock – in a coma or something?' he asked.

'No, it's not a coma,' McCoy shrugged. 'I just don't know. He hasn't been eating or sleeping, but it's not exhaustion. I went to see him, and he was talking to me, after a fashion, then – he started crying, Jim, and he went into this state.'

'Crying?' Kirk echoed. 'A Vulcan?'

He sat down by Spock's bed, and took an unresisting hand.

'Spock, what's wrong with you?' he asked directly, but there was no response. 'Bones, why won't he wake up?'

The doctor shook his head. 'He's not asleep. He's shut himself off completely. He's just – switched off from everything. If he were human, I'd say he'd had a nervous breakdown.'

'Bones, that's impossible. Spock's never seemed in the least unhappy.'

Kirk touched his hands to Spock's face, placing his fingers on his cheeks in a faint hope that some mental connection might spark from the contact.

'Spock, it's Jim. I'm here with you. Please, tell us what's wrong…'

There was not even a flinch of reaction from the touch.

'I don't know what it is, Jim,' McCoy told him. 'But he's seemed strange recently. Sometimes he's been more unemotional, sometimes he's been more human. Just subtle things, like gesticulating when he speaks, letting his posture relax. And he wouldn't come to your party.'

'I thought that was just Vulcanness,' Kirk said, his eyes still fixed on Spock's face. 'Vulcans don't like these crowded, undisciplined social gatherings.'

'But Spock would have come anyway – if something hadn't been wrong. You know Spock. He *_would*_ have come. He wouldn't have wanted to hurt you. Have you noticed anything in particular, Jim, before it got to this stage? Has he seemed upset at all?'

'I - don't know,' Kirk said slowly. 'He's been – well, he's been withdrawn, uncommunicative – almost rude at times. He hasn't seemed particularly interested in his job. But – I thought it was just – I don't know – a phase, or something.'

'But he's been keeping up his shifts all right?'

Kirk looked guilty. 'Er – no. Last week he seemed so disaffected that I – told him not to bother coming back to the bridge if he kept this up. He's managed to rearrange his shifts over the past week so he was always in the labs. I've been so busy I didn't check up on him… Bones, this is my fault…'

'No. No, it's not, Jim.' He took Kirk by the arm and dragged him away from the Vulcan. 'Jim, come with me.'

'Bones, shouldn't you be doing something?' Kirk asked insistently. 'Helping him?'

'Like how? He's not going anywhere, Jim. A few minutes for me to talk to you won't hurt him. It might help him. Come on.'

He took Jim through to his office, went into another room, then came back and placed two cups of coffee on the desk.

'That's another thing, Jim,' he said. 'He's been drinking coffee. It never really struck me before. I just saw him drinking it.'

'He's allowed to drink coffee,' the captain shrugged. 'He's not allergic to it, is he?'

He knew the Vulcan digestive system couldn't take all human foods – just as humans found many Vulcan foods hard to swallow – but he thought he would have known if Spock were allergic to coffee.

'No, he's not allergic - at least, I don't think he is.'

'Then what's so - '

'It's a drug. Strong, black coffee. It's full of caffeine. Spock wouldn't drink something that was bad for him. It's illogical. He has some now and then, socially, and just because he likes it, I think, but he's been gulping it down recently, like he really needed something to keep him on his feet.'

Kirk smiled briefly. 'Bones, are you saying he's turning into a coffee-holic?'

McCoy matched his smile, then shook his head.

'That's not as silly as it sounds, Jim. He's _*using_* it, at least, rather than just enjoying it. But I just don't know what could be making him act like this. It could be anything from something recent, to a childhood trauma suddenly catching up with him. Spock didn't exactly have an easy childhood.'

'I know there was teasing, bullying,' Kirk nodded, 'but surely it couldn't have been bad enough to produce - this?'

'I don't know, Jim,' McCoy said tiredly. 'I'm just a country doctor. I don't have a degree in Vulcan psychology. But I *_do*_ know that Vulcan children can be very cruel. They actually have the intelligence to know how to really hurt someone. And he had human needs too. He had a father who was Vulcan, and a mother who was human. He probably needed all those things that human children need. Hugs when he was upset, someone to talk to about his emotions. But he'd be trying desperately to be Vulcan. He wouldn't ask, and his mother couldn't treat him like he was human. He wouldn't have wanted it.'

'Bones, he's been fine all the time he's been on this ship,' Kirk protested. 'I don't see what could have set him off.'

'I was pretty mean to him the other day,' he said guiltily. 'When he wouldn't come to your party. I called him a – a half-bred mongrel. I started to call him a crossbred carcass of logic and – I don't know what I would've said. I know how sensitive he really is over that, but I was angry, and I just wasn't thinking of what I was saying. But then – I said all that _*because_* of how he's been acting... I don't know,' he sighed. 'I guess he probably gets prejudice from other crewmembers. I've even heard comments from some superior officers who should know better. Like most of us – they just don't think. Or they think that because he says he's unemotional they can say whatever they like about him in front of him.' He put his half-empty cup back on the desk. 'There is something I might be able to do. It won't sort out the problem, but it could bring him back to us.'

'Then try it,' Kirk told him quickly.

Kirk took a last swig of his coffee, and put his empty cup beside McCoy's, then followed him back through to the ward. The doctor went across the room, and returned with a hypo, carefully setting a dosage.

'I'll try this, Jim. Hang on.'

He waved his medical scanner briefly over the Vulcan, glanced at it, then looked harder, running it over again.

'What's wrong?' Kirk asked, seeing the puzzlement in his face.

'There's alcohol in his blood stream,' McCoy muttered, staring at the readings again. 'And Spock only ever drinks out of politeness.'

'You mean he's drunk?'

'No. He's not drunk,' McCoy said firmly. 'There's enough there to make a human drunk, but not a Vulcan – but it shouldn't be there at all. That's it. I'm going to bring him round, Jim.'

He adjusted the dose minutely, then pressured the full amount into the Vulcan's arm. Spock's body stiffened abruptly, then he blinked.

'Spock,' Kirk began again. 'Can you hear me?'

'Where am I?' Spock sat upright slowly, his eyes focusing. He looked down at his sickbay overall in confusion. 'Dr McCoy? Doctor, why am I in sickbay?'

'Spock, don't you remember?' McCoy asked cautiously.

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow, ignoring the question.

'I am not ill,' he stated.

'That's a matter of opinion,' Kirk said softly. 'Bones, what did you give him?'

'Just a mild stimulant,' McCoy said, glancing at him. 'Spock, do you remember me being in your quarters? Do you remember me talking to you?'

Spock looked at him with something approaching amazement.

'Doctor, you were not in my rooms. I was simply going about my daily routines, completing some work on the computer, and then - '

His face clouded, and he shook his head slightly.

'Spock, you were – in some kind of trance,' McCoy said carefully.

The look on Spock's face cleared, and he said bluntly, 'Doctor, undoubtedly you disturbed me during meditation. You leapt to conclusions, as humans so often do, sedated me, and brought me here.'

The doctor shook his head. 'Spock, I never gave you anything until the stimulant just now. Do you really have no memory of how you got here?'

Spock gave a small, frustrated shake of his head.

'Doctor, is it really so important?'

'I think it's very important. Spock, has anyone you care for died recently?'

The Vulcan looked at him sharply. 'Not that I am aware of.'

'Any sad anniversaries? Illness in the family?'

'No. None. I do not understand the motive for this questioning. Meditation is not unusual.'

'Your blood is full of alcohol, and you were crying.'

Spock raised an eyebrow. His face was still cold. 'I do not drink. I am not crying, and I am not ill.'

'Spock, tell me what you're feeling inside,' McCoy asked softly. 'Maybe I can help.'

'My inner feelings are not your concern, Doctor,' the Vulcan said sharply.

'They are when I find you in that sort of state in your cabin, Spock. You don't even remember being there. You don't remember me being there. You were withdrawn into yourself so deeply you didn't even know Uhura was with you, and you were crying.'

'Doctor,' Spock said softly and calmly. 'Whatever my previous state was, I am perfectly well now. You will, of course, now discharge me,' he said.

'Now, hang on a moment,' McCoy protested. 'You're not well, Spock. I know that much, even if I don't know why.'

'I feel perfectly fit. It is illogical to waste a bed by confining me to sickbay when there is no need.' He turned his face to the captain in appeal. 'Captain, you must be aware that I am perfectly well. You have seen me in meditation before. Sometimes one can become overcome.'

'Jim,' McCoy protested.

'Spock, are you sure you're okay?' Kirk asked him, looking directly into his eyes.

He wanted nothing more than to believe that Spock had simply suffered an unusual response to deep meditation, and that there was little more than that to the problem. Spock had been through a difficult time during the past few months, during and after their captivity by the Tyok people on Vulcan. It did not seem unimaginable that he might have some trouble coming to terms with his experiences during meditation.

'I am quite well, Captain,' Spock said steadily. 'You know that the doctor cannot hold me here against my will.'

'I damn well can,' McCoy said furiously.

'Bones, if he says he's okay, then we should trust him,' Kirk intervened. 'Quarters aren't all that far from sickbay, and our rooms are close to his.'

'Jim!' McCoy said more loudly.

'Bones,' Kirk said quietly, shaking his head.

'All right, Spock,' McCoy said grudgingly. 'Against my better judgement, you can go – as long as you make sure you eat and sleep. Get a good hot meal down as soon as you get in there, and take a long, undisturbed nap. And if anything happens - '

'Nothing will,' Spock said. He got up, and made for the door.

'And you are allowed on the bridge, Spock,' Kirk called after him. 'I'd like to see you up there, when you feel up to it.'

'Yes, sir,' Spock said without turning, and went through the door.

'Well, do you credit that?' McCoy asked. 'Not so much as a thank you. Jim, something is definitely wrong. Why did you make me let him go?'

'I didn't force you,' Kirk protested.

McCoy snorted. 'Jim, you're the captain of this whole damn ship. I couldn't very well keep him in against both the arguments of the captain and first officer – not without specific medical evidence, which you know I don't have.'

'Bones, you know Spock doesn't like sickbay,' Kirk said in a conciliatory tone. 'He'll be better off in his rooms. He's just a bit off –that's all. He had a tough time with all that business on Vulcan – then there was the accident with the cadets at Starbase 7. He needs time to come to terms with it.'

'Yeah, the shuttle accident got to us all, to some extent, even if they weren't our people,' McCoy nodded.

It had been only a few weeks ago that Spock had been demonstrating the piloting of a shuttle to a small group of cadets, and an ion storm had unexpectedly struck the vehicle, leading to the deaths of all but Spock himself.

'Spock was in charge,' Kirk murmured. 'It's always hardest when you're the one in charge…'

'Maybe so,' McCoy nodded, 'but it goes deeper than that. Spock's had people die under his command before – you remember Taurus Two, don't you? But he didn't crack up over it – and he didn't crack up over this incident, either. This is – something different, I'm sure. His explanations for what happened were completely illogical, and he completely denied having anything to drink. But I don't know anything in my Vulcan medical texts that describes this behaviour. Now, that means that he's behaving abnormally for a Vulcan, even a sick Vulcan.'

'You don't have any books on half Vulcans, Bones,' Kirk pointed out.

'No, I know. That mixture of Vulcan control with human susceptibility – and with Vulcan emotions running under the surface. Jim, there is something wrong with him,' he said firmly. 'You seem to have a problem with believing that – but something is very wrong.'

'Bones, I'll keep on eye on him on the bridge, and you can keep an eye on him otherwise,' Kirk reassured him. 'But we can't force him to stay in sickbay. If it makes you feel better, I don't believe it was meditation either. But Spock's always had control of his own mind. I thought it'd be better for him to have some time in the privacy of his own room, not in sickbay.'

'Jim, you should let me do the diagnosis. I'm the doctor.'

'A few days won't hurt. He's right next door to me. Like I said – I'll keep an eye on him.'

'Well, if you watch him, don't always watch his face, Jim. Watch his hands.'

'I beg your pardon?' Kirk asked.

'Vulcans are a very manipulative society – their hands are important to them. You can more often tell how Spock's feeling by watching how his hands move. He controls his face pretty well, but I guess he's not so conscious of his hands.'

'I'll watch them. But, Bones, I can't really believe that Spock would have a nervous breakdown, even after what you've been telling me. Not *_Spock*_.'

'Maybe you don't, Jim, but I do,' McCoy said seriously. 'He is sensitive under his Vulcan shell. Maybe he can't control his emotions to the extent he seems to. Maybe it's the very trauma of living with such conflict for so long. Maybe the pressure's finally caught up with him. I don't know. But we can't ignore it, Jim, and hope it'll go away.'


	3. Chapter 3

3.

On the home planet of the Romulans, far on the other side of the neutral zone, Haian felt the urge to travel, or study – or to do *_something*_. He didn't know what, or how, but he felt suddenly restless and uneasy. Was it because of his eldest sister, just begun on her first space mission in the Romulan military forces? Maybe. She would have trouble out there. It was law that the eldest had to join the forces, but none of their family really wanted wars, or military expansion. In one half of his mind, he feared for her, but on the other, he hoped that maybe every peaceful member of the forces would sway those forces towards peace.

It wasn't something they talked about to the neighbours, but Haian would far rather be at peace with the Federation, and be free to visit the world of his people's origin – the world of Vulcan – than trapped behind a neutral zone by an endless, purposeless cold war. That urge had been stronger recently, adding to his restlessness. Some other Romulans wanted to find out, to know about their distant cousins. Some were indifferent. Many were frightened of these cold, logical, controlled relatives, who had developed stronger minds and stronger telepathic powers, and they expressed that fear in bitter hatred. He also knew that some Vulcans were apprehensive of these humanoids that were of the same blood, but without the disciplines of logic to curb their passionate, and sometimes cruel nature. He also knew that underneath they were all only people, with the same families and homes and desire to live happy and fulfilling lives.

Haian wandered slowly, almost unconsciously, out into the garden behind their house, towards a small and shady bower of trees at the bottom. He slipped into the cool, dark retreat they made, and sat down on the grass, crossing his legs. Then he closed his eyes, concentrating on the heat and redness that he knew existed on Vulcan, concentrating on the unharnessed, undeveloped mental power he had, and trying to make it stronger.

******

Kirk fiddled impatiently with the intercom button on the side of his chair, waiting for a clear channel to McCoy's office, alternating glances between his communications officer, and Spock's empty chair. Then Uhura gave him a slight nod, and he pressed the switch.

'Bones,' he called tersely.

'Sickbay,' McCoy's voice replied immediately. 'McCoy here.'

'Bones, Spock hasn't turned up for duty,' he told the doctor, suddenly feeling rather foolish for his level of concern over a simple missed shift. 'He's overdue almost an hour now, and he's not answering the intercom, and no one's seen him about the ship. I know there's probably no need to worry, but I'm going down to his quarters to see if he's there, and – '

'I'm on my way,' McCoy interrupted immediately.

McCoy's abrupt answer suddenly made all Kirk's irrational worries come back even stronger. He didn't see why anything should be wrong, but something – some sixth sense – was telling him to get down to Spock's room right away. He snapped off the channel, and headed into the elevator. He met McCoy outside Spock's door.

'I just got here,' McCoy said, 'but he's not answering the door chime.'

'I'll use my priority override,' Kirk said, opening a panel to punch the correct code into a pad. 'I wouldn't worry,' he began as he entered Spock's room. 'But he has been strange recently. There was that incident a few days ago, and he usually notifies me at least if he can't come onto his shift, or if he's working someplace else. He's usually so punctual, it's almost annoying. I thought he might be ill – but too ill to reach the intercom?'

He looked around the rooms, but the Vulcan was nowhere to be seen in the dim red light that Spock preferred in his quarters.

'Spock?' he called. He looked at McCoy, who shrugged.

'I don't know where he is, if he's not here.'

'Maybe one of the labs?'

'I think we should find him, Jim.'

Kirk stared suddenly at McCoy. He didn't know precisely what was behind the doctor's assertion, but the deadly seriousness of his tone chilled him right through.

'Bones, are you that worried?' he asked.

'Yes,' the doctor said bluntly. 'I really think we should find him.'

'We'll go look in the labs.'

Jim turned towards the door, but as he did he heard a faint movement, and a groan. He followed the noise to the far side of Spock's bed.

'Bones! Quick!'

McCoy ran to him, to see Spock lying slumped on the floor between the bed and the wall, only half conscious.

'I doubt he even wanted to reach the intercom,' the doctor said inexplicably, anger in his voice. 'Jim, stay back.'

He bent over the Vulcan, pushing his fingers into Spock's mouth, making him choke feebly. Then he shook the Vulcan roughly, trying to bring him out of the deep stupor.

'Spock, what did you take?' he asked loudly. 'How many?'

Spock only moaned incoherently, stirring slightly. Vomit was pooled on the floor by his face, mingling with patches of green blood. McCoy took something from his clenched hand and put it in his medical satchel.

'What's the matter with him?' Kirk asked.

McCoy didn't answer.

'Help me get him to sickbay, fast,' he snapped. 'There isn't time for a stretcher.'

Kirk slung Spock's limp, semi-conscious form over his shoulder without hesitation.

'Bones. Will you tell me what's wrong with him?' he insisted. 'What did you mean, what did he take?' Kirk panted, as they ran towards sickbay.

'I can't tell you anything yet,' McCoy said grimly. 'Wait until I've saved his life.'

******

Kirk paced up and down outside sickbay impatiently, sick with worry, while McCoy worked on Spock behind the closed doors. The captain looked down for the hundredth time at the drying green blood on his hand and uniform top, puzzling at what could make the Vulcan bleed and be sick at the same time. And why it was serious enough to put his life in danger. And why McCoy wouldn't tell him what the matter was.

He tried again to force himself to push the questions aside, and be patient. There was no use in asking himself. He would only know when the doctor told him. But his mind wouldn't stop buzzing and whirling like one of the bridge computers, asking why, why, why, all the time.

At last the doors slid open, and McCoy came out, looking grave and worried. There was a smear of green blood across his blue shirt, and he beckoned Kirk, his face exhausted.

'You can come in now, Jim,' he said almost silently. 'But you have to be very quiet.'

'What was it?' he asked immediately.

'I just should have kept him in sickbay,' McCoy muttered. 'God, I should have kept him in. I should have known.'

'Bones, what was wrong with him?' Kirk asked insistently.

McCoy inhaled deeply, looking desperately tired.

'A combination of things, Jim. First, and least, he was faint from hunger and exhausted from lack of sleep. I don't think he'd eaten or rested like I told him to.'

'Then he'd collapsed? But he's going to be all right?'

'Wait, Jim. No, he didn't collapse,' he said gravely. He showed Kirk a small pill bottle. 'This was still in his hand, and there was a high level of alcohol in his bloodstream. He's taken an overdose of sedatives – of sleeping pills. Far too many for it to be accidental. He washed them down with a good quantity of various spirits.'

'He tried to commit suicide?' Kirk asked in shock. 'Where did he get the pills?'

'I prescribed them to him a little while back,' McCoy said gently. 'He'd had some trouble sleeping after that business on Vulcan.'

'You prescribed *_sleeping pills*_ to Spock?' the captain said incredulously. 'I – I don't know. I just can't imagine Spock having trouble sleeping…'

'Jim, it's amazing Spock was even born,' McCoy told him in a confidential tone. 'Somehow, the Vulcan-Human match just about works. But there are some flaws. Some things he needs medical science to help him with. One, is he's got a Vulcan brain that's slightly human. Spock is practically a genius – well up above a lot of Vulcans, I'd say – but he can't always quite handle it. He can't always control that need to learn.'

'And it stops him sleeping?'

'That's right,' McCoy nodded. 'That's why I gave him sleeping pills. I didn't think he'd use them. I was just hoping he would. But he obviously hadn't, and he took almost all the bottle today. An overdose can make you relax so far your heart stops. He'd also drunk very large amount of alcohol on a *_very*_ empty stomach, and lacerated his arms from wrist to elbow with a piece of broken glass to be absolutely sure. Luckily he didn't cut any of the tendons deeply enough to paralyse the hands.'

'Then he *_did*_ try to commit suicide? But why?' Kirk asked in a bewildered tone. 'Why? He's a Vulcan, Bones.'

'He tried, in a way – and not in a very logical way,' McCoy sighed. 'I don't know why. Maybe it's the pressure. Like I was saying – he's not all Vulcan. He's half-human, and forced to live out that half-human life in Vulcan fashion – more so than regular Vulcans. Maybe he just couldn't take it any more.'

'I can't believe that,' Kirk said with conviction. 'Spock can deal with his human half. Sure, it causes him problems sometimes, but he's always been able to deal with it.'

'Maybe,' McCoy shrugged. 'Maybe this time it was just too much.'

'But, Bones, this is completely out of character for Spock,' Kirk protested, grabbing in his bewilderment at anything that suggested the Spock had not truly attempted what McCoy said he had attempted. 'Spock just – wouldn't do something like this.'

'I know he wouldn't, but he has,' the doctor said flatly. 'There's no denying those cuts in his arms, or the amount of drugs in his body.'

'You don't know he did it. Someone could have tried to kill him - made it look like suicide.'

'Jim, *_I know*_,' McCoy insisted. 'You're clutching at very thin straws.'

'He wouldn't do something like that,' Kirk said stubbornly.

'Jim,' McCoy said softly. 'I've done brain scans. Every reading depressed. He *_did*_ try to kill himself.'

'But – surely Spock would use a more logical method?' Kirk continued to argue. He just couldn't believe this of Spock. Not of _*Spock_*. 'Surely he'd find something quick and painless? He must be in so much pain right now.'

'Well, he's too drugged at the moment to feel the pain, but as we filter the sedative out he'll feel it more. But anyway, it may be that he didn't actually set up to commit suicide. He might not have realised what he was doing.'

'How could he not know?' Kirk asked incredulously.

'Picture it, Jim,' the doctor said. 'You're feeling depressed. You sit down and have a drink. You have another, and another. It doesn't help – perhaps it makes you feel more depressed. You think, *_maybe if I can sleep, all the thoughts will go away*_. So you take the sedatives – a good handful, to give you oblivion. They start to affect your thinking. You become even more depressed and irrational. You smash a bottle, slit your wrists. You didn't set out to end it all, but it's the path you end up taking. That might've been how it happened.'

'*_Might* _have,' Kirk repeated. 'Bones, you *_knew*_, didn't you? You knew as soon as I called you.'

'No. I didn't know,' McCoy told him gently. 'But I was worried. I thought he might have done something, and I thought it was too big a risk to simply shrug and say he probably forgot his shift.'

'You told me he could have a breakdown,' Kirk muttered. 'I just couldn't believe that was true of him. I should have been there for him, then this would never have happened.'

'Jim, he might have done it anyway, sooner or later, whether he was here or in his quarters,' McCoy said, putting a hand on his arm. 'Spock's a very resourceful man. You can't blame yourself.'

Kirk looked as if he were struggling inwardly for a moment, then his face set.

'Starbase 5 is nearest. Do they have facilities there, Bones? Hospital facilities, where he can be cared for.'

'He can be cared for here, Jim,' McCoy said insistently. 'He's not irreversibly ill. He's not insane. He doesn't have to be committed to any off-ship hospitals. It's a long way back to Vulcan, and the last thing he needs is to be in a Starfleet hospital, surrounded by illogical and emotional patients. He'll be best here, with his friends, where his life is.'

'Bones, are you sure? I want him to have the best possible care.'

'And you think my staff here can't give it? They'll be no more adept at Vulcan psychology on Starbase 5 than we are here. If I sent him anywhere, it'd have to be to a hospital on Vulcan, but I'd rather give him a chance here before we do that.'

'You said it might have been an accident, at least in part,' Kirk pointed out. 'Some part of him doesn't want to die.' He sighed, then took a deep breath. 'Can I see him?'

McCoy nodded.

'He's just about conscious, but he is on a life support machine. His heart needs help right now. His breathing was slow too, so we have a regulator on his lungs. He's still under the influence of the drugs, so don't take everything he says as truth - but don't dismiss it, either.'

'Why couldn't he tell me?' Kirk murmured. He didn't expect an answer.

'Come through, Jim,' McCoy said. 'But be gentle. He's terribly weak.'

They walked through to where Spock lay motionless in a sickbay bed with his eyes closed. Kirk didn't quite want to go forward. Didn't want to see Spock, his best friend, always loyal, strong, reliable, and the picture of unemotional serenity, lying in bed so sick from self inflicted wounds. He didn't know what to say, or what to do.

The nurse standing beside the bed looked up with a fleeting, worried smile, then she went quietly over to the other side of the room, out of Kirk's way. He stepped over to the bed slowly, staring at his first officer.

Spock's face was pale, and he looked exhausted. There was a drip in one arm and a tube transfusing blood to him in the other. Both arms were bandaged tightly to the elbows. A different pipe slowly filtered his dark green blood, leaving a trace of white powder and a trickle of alcohol in a collection cylinder halfway along the system.

Kirk took a white hand, and the fingers closed around his weakly. He was startled by the coldness of Spock's normally hot skin. Slowly Spock opened his mouth, and ran his tongue over his lips to wet them. He did not open his eyes.

'Jim?' he asked. 'Is that Jim?'

'Yes, Spock,' Kirk said softly. 'I'm here.'

The fingers tightened a little on Kirk's hand, but there was very little strength behind the movement.

'Do – not leave.'

'I won't,' he promised. 'Spock, why did you do it?' he asked in a low voice.

He shook his head, such a subtle movement that it was almost imperceptible.

'I – felt it was illogical to live with no purpose to my life. I don't benefit the ship. I hinder it. Always hinder...'

He broke off and lay in silence, his lips pressed together in an expression of repressed pain.

'Spock,' Kirk said with gentle insistence. 'You *_do* _benefit the ship. You've saved the ship countless numbers of times. We couldn't run without your skill and knowledge.'

'I should go back to Vulcan,' he murmured. 'You don't need me. Less than human... Walking computer banks, less than a human. And I'm less than both…'

'*_No*_, Spock,' Kirk insisted. 'You're *_more*_ than both, the best of human and Vulcan. You always have the sense and control to do the right thing, but you temper your logic with compassion and intuition... We wouldn't want you any other way.'

'I wanted my father to show some love towards me,' he said, more as if he were talking to himself than to Kirk. 'For my father to show he cared for me. And I could never ask. He would be ashamed... My peers taunting me...'

'Spock, that's all past,' Kirk said desperately. 'That's all over now. Everyone here cares for you, just the way you are. You're my best friend, Spock…'

'I don't know why I feel so desolate. I don't understand...'

'Shh,' Kirk soothed him. 'Don't worry about that. I should've been there for you, Spock. I should have seen. I'm sorry.'

'I'm so tired, Jim.'

'Then you should try to sleep,' Kirk told him gently, knowing that wasn't what Spock meant. 'That's what comes from pushing yourself, staying awake all night.'

'Jim, please,' he said brokenly. 'Tell McCoy to turn off these machines. Let me die.'

'No,' said Kirk in a fierce, low voice. 'We can help you through this.'

'I want to die. Why won't you let me?'

'Because we all care about you, and we can help you. Spock, it's not logical for you to want to die for no reason. You said you don't understand why you feel like this. We have to find out. We have to find out, and fix it. It's the only logical thing to do – you must see that, Spock.'

'I know, but - but...' His voice faded away, his face seeming to pale even more.

'Jim, you're tiring him,' McCoy warned him.

Kirk glanced up briefly, then looked back to Spock. 'Spock, you have to promise me you'll never do anything like this again.'

'I can't, Jim. I can't promise that.'

'At least try. You have to have the will to live.'

'I – will try. I can promise that.' His eyes fluttered open briefly, then shut again as if even the dim light in the room was too bright for him. 'I want to know,' he murmured. 'Want to understand. On Vulcan, perhaps…'

He trailed off, and McCoy said softly, 'When you're well enough, Spock, we can get you to a Vulcan healer, but you can't leave the ship right now.'

'On Vulcan,' Spock repeated. His voice was becoming increasingly drowsy.

'Jim, he really needs rest now,' McCoy said firmly. 'We should leave him be.'

Spock stirred uneasily.

'Captain, please don't leave,' he murmured. 'Don't leave me.'

'May I stay, Bones?' Kirk asked, looking up at the doctor with a pleading expression in his eyes.

'Okay,' McCoy nodded quietly. 'I don't want him excited. As long as you let him sleep. He's still dangerously ill.'

'Can you tell Scotty to take command, Bones?'

'All right, Jim. Then I have to talk to you.'

The doctor went to the intercom and gave the order. By the time he returned the Vulcan was relaxed in the bed, his fingers curled loosely around Kirk's hand.

'He's asleep already,' Kirk told him

'Good.' McCoy checked the Vulcan's readings carefully, then nodded with satisfaction. 'Come with me, Jim. The nurse will stay with him.'

'Will he be all right?'

'He should be,' the doctor nodded. 'But he's still critically ill. We pumped all we could from his stomach and we're filtering as much of the remaining drugs and alcohol as we can from his blood now. His heart's the problem. I have to get it working on its own. But once he's through the worst of it he'll recover quite quickly, physically, at least. I've sealed the cuts in his wrists, and the transfusion is taking care of the blood loss. The main thing is to get him through this stage. He'll be critical for the next twenty-four hours. If I get him past that point, he's pretty much guaranteed to recover.'

'And you think you can get him past it?'

'I will,' McCoy said firmly. 'I'm damned if I'm going to let him die – not in _*my_* sickbay. But anyway, you can go back to him now. I just wanted to tell you what he's facing, medically. But Jim,' he said, catching Kirk's arm as he turned to go back to Spock's room. 'I want you to keep what happened in the strictest confidence,' he said. 'Most people would be understanding, I'm sure, but having his condition going round the ship's gossip channels is the last thing he needs.'

'I know, Bones,' Kirk nodded. 'I've no intention of telling anyone.'

'Great,' McCoy nodded. He touched a hand to Kirk's arm, nodding his head towards the small intensive care room. 'Go sit with him, Jim. Your presence is going to be the best medicine he can have at the moment.'

'Will it be enough, Bones?' Kirk asked seriously. 'He wants so desperately to die.'

'It'll be enough for now,' McCoy nodded his assurance. 'The only thing we can do is wait, and try to get him out of this ditch he's put himself in.'


	4. Chapter 4

4.

'Haian.'

Haian was jerked rudely from his meditation by the voice of his second sister, his elder by only one year. He blinked, and refocused on light, and the colours of his home. He had lost track of time, lost track of the fact he sitting in a garden on his home planet, not in the swirling heat of an alien Vulcan desert.

'Haian, what were you doing in here?' Tijanas asked curiously. 'You looked as if you were out with the stars.'

'I - ' Haian dithered, wondering what he *_had*_ been doing. 'I was meditating, Janas. I never have before. I don't know that I can tell you why.' He looked up at her properly, focussing on her to try to adjust his eyes to the light better. 'Janas, what are you wearing?' he asked, when he took in her clothes properly. 'I hope you are not considering flaunting yourself down the street in such a flamboyant outfit. The Praetor would have you banished as a nonconformist.'

His sister unfixed a veil from over her mouth and nose, and held her arms out to her sides, so as to unfurl the red material in the long dress she wore. She spun slowly, posing.

'I wondered if they would wear this sort of dress on Vulcan. I was trying to dress like a Vulcan. And I don't think it's so bad without the veil, either. I was considering wearing it.'

'To a fancy dress party?'

'To a ball,' she said grandly. 'To some special occasion, anyway.'

'It does look nice, Janas, even if nonconformist,' he admitted. 'But I doubt Vulcans would dress like that,' he told her in no uncertain terms. 'Vulcans are logical, not circus performers, or dancers.'

'They must take some form of exercise, Haian, and I thought that they did appreciate art and beauty, even with their logic.'

'We will only know if we speak to a Vulcan, and I do not expect to ever speak to a Vulcan.' He paused, looking at her. 'It is strange, though. I was thinking of Vulcan too, before you came outside.'

'Does it not often happen with brothers and sisters?' she asked him, smiling as she sank down onto the grass beside him. 'And you cannot speak of *_me*_ as a nonconformist. You were meditating as they say the Vulcans do.'

'Yes...' His eyes clouded and became distant, as if he was trying hard to remember something. 'I was thinking of Vulcan. I was pushing my thoughts in that direction. Voices came to me, Janas, into my mind. They told me to expect something. They told me we were chosen for some purpose, and we would find out soon. Someone would come to us, from beyond the Neutral Zone.'

'Did they also tell you to worship the undergod and sacrifice yourself to him?' she mocked him. 'Or simply to visit Doctor Enaim?'

'I am not mad, Janas,' he told her. 'I'm simply telling you what came to me while my thoughts were concentrated on Vulcan. They said someone will come.'

Tijanas put her hand under his elbow and jerked him firmly to his feet. 'If you will speak of people coming from beyond the neutral zone, Haian, you should speak of it inside, where loyalists cannot hear,' she told him in a low, serious voice. 'We have already lost Sanah into the services. I will not lose you to a painful execution for treason. Come inside.'

She made sure she held his arm firmly, and virtually marched Haian back inside the house.

******

On the _Enterprise_, Captain Kirk strode back into sickbay, looking for McCoy. He had just finished a long, tedious bridge shift. Spock had been asleep when he had begun his shift, and he had very few illusions that he would be awake now, but he came to check on the Vulcan personally at every opportunity.

He went into the examination room, and saw the doctor putting phials into a cupboard on the wall.

'Bones,' he called, and the doctor turned around, putting a flask down on the table. 'Is he still asleep?'

McCoy nodded silently. 'But he seems more comfortable now, and he's off the life support He's coming through it.'

'How long has it been?'

McCoy thought for a moment, calculating in his head. 'Coming up for sixty-nine hours now,' he said. He shrugged tiredly. 'He's hardly stirred.'

'How is he, Bones?' Kirk asked hesitantly. 'Is there any - damage?'

'No,' he said with conviction. 'No. He's got the constitution of an Aldebaran water buffalo. He'll be okay, Jim – and he's lucky.' He paused. 'Jim, I've been worrying about whether to contact his family.'

'You say he's not in any danger now?'

'Physically, no,' McCoy nodded. 'He'll be fine.'

'Then there's no urgency to let them know without having his permission. I can't imagine that he'd want Sarek to know. Bones, you said physically. What about mentally? Will he ever really recover?' Kirk asked reluctantly. 'Will he ever be – happy?'

McCoy scratched his head, looking briefly into the supply cupboard before looking back to the captain.

'There're some things you've got to understand, Jim,' he said. 'He's not human, for a start. A human can be ill for years. It's not like that with Vulcans. Two things can happen when a Vulcan suffers a collapse like this.'

'Which are?'

'They recover, or they don't,' McCoy said simply. 'I don't believe he really wanted to die – but I can't take that for granted.'

'You mean he could try again?'

'Not while he's in my sickbay,' he said firmly. 'And I'm going to make sure that when he leaves the idea is totally out of his mind.'

'I thought Vulcans weren't supposed to get mental illnesses. I thought they could stop anything going wrong before it's even started.'

McCoy smiled. 'That's one of those myths that humans bandy around, Jim. No kind of being can ever be exempt – especially intelligent beings. The more intelligence, the worse it can be. It's true that Vulcans can deal with most things, and cure themselves of most things, but it's not always that easy, and occasionally they need someone else's help. If you just imagine all the pressures on them to conform, and be logical, unemotional – any kind of flaw in their training can be dangerous.'

'But I'm sure Spock was trained more thoroughly than most Vulcans,' Kirk pointed out. 'They would have wanted to give him as much control over his human traits as possible.'

'Yes, but those human traits are still there, even if they are suppressed. But anyway, if he recovers, Jim, it won't take a long time. Vulcans can heal their bodies, and they can more or less heal their minds. He'll need some help, but when he's a little better, he can start to analyse what's wrong, and how to put it right.'

'And what if he doesn't recover?' Kirk asked gravely. 'How big a chance is there that he won't?'

'I've been reading up on cases like his, Jim,' McCoy said, looking grave. 'About fifty percent of the ones I reviewed recovered completely.'

'That means fifty percent don't. Why?'

He shrugged. 'Some just can't be helped with drugs or mind meld. They never get to the stage where they're well enough to heal their own minds, and so they stay in the same state for the rest of their lives – however long that is. The Vulcan doctors can tell after a time if their patient's going to recover, and they believe they should let the person die if he wants to, rather than leave him in mental suffering for the rest of their two hundred years of life. But I believe I can get Spock to the stage where he'll want to help himself,' the doctor told Kirk firmly.

'And then?'

'And then we try to work out what the problem is, and how to eliminate that problem. It'd help if I was Vulcan. Lots of their therapy is by mind contact - a sort of plugging directly into the brain. It's easier for a Vulcan to let someone feel it than have to explain in words. Vulcan healers can use their minds to soothe the patient's, and share the troubles with them. But that's by the by at the moment. Spock's not going anywhere.'

'And what can you do with Spock?'

'Well, if he plugged into my mind, the illogic in there would send him downhill faster than being kicked out of Starfleet,' McCoy half smiled. 'And I know it wouldn't do my mind any good. In fact, it'd be dangerous for a human to try to contact him while he's in this state of mind. But I can talk with him, and there are drugs that can help. If I can get him through the first stage, and find out what's wrong, he could be well in as soon as a few weeks.'

'Can I see him now?' Kirk asked anxiously.

'Go ahead,' he nodded. 'I've moved him into the ward. We can talk later.'

Kirk walked through with McCoy, and stood by the bedside, regarding the Vulcan. He was soundly asleep, curled on his side, breathing slowly and peacefully. His tightly bandaged arms were bent up near his face – a stark reminder to Kirk of what the Vulcan had done, and how far he had had to go before his best friend noticed.

'I haven't seen him like that before,' Kirk said. 'Curled up around himself like a scared little child.'

'Oh, that posture's not that unusual for Spock,' McCoy smiled. 'Not when he doesn't realise there's anyone there.'

'At least he's not so pale now,' Kirk observed hopefully.

'No,' the doctor agreed. 'He's getting stronger. The last of the sedative filtered out an hour ago.'

'That's good.'

'At least it means he's not dependent on any more machines. But, Jim,' he said, putting a hand on the captain's arm. 'If he wakes, don't worry him about anything. No pressure.'

'Of course not.'

He sat down by the bed, waiting for McCoy to return to the office. Then he looked back to the Vulcan's sleeping face. He felt strange just sitting there. But he felt just as strange speaking to someone who was practically unconscious. He looked around. No one was there to listen. He put a hand on Spock's arm, hoping that the contact might make him in some way aware of his presence.

'Hello, Spock,' he said quietly. 'I – thought you might want a status report. Bones says you're getting better. You're off life support. All of the drugs are filtered out of your bloodstream...'

The silence seemed to creep around him, magnifying the noises of the sensor unit above the bed and the artificial echo of Spock's heartbeat, and the soft, rhythmical noise of his breathing. Thank God that heartbeat and breathing were there for him to hear, though…

'Umm… The ship,' he continued. 'Do you want to know about the ship? Everything's running smoothly on the bridge, but we're missing you. Everyone wishes you well. You can't have visitors yet – well, apart from me. I think Bones counts me as family – but Lieutenant Uhura sends her love, and Sulu said, 'Me too'. Chekov says he'll take care of your computer and all your duties until you get back, and Scotty said he'll be needing you to help him with an engineering problem. I think that meant get well soon, and he's missing you too. Nurse Chapel said she'll be in later to sit with you. Like I said, you can't have visitors, but she'll make sure she's always on hand in case you need to talk. She won't be with you all the time – she didn't think you'd like that, but if you just call, or use the buzzer, she'll come.'

Finally, the Vulcan stirred at his voice. His face tensed with wakefulness, but he didn't open his eyes.

'Jim?' he asked.

'Spock!' Kirk smiled, then said softly. 'You're awake?'

'Obviously.'

Spock turned his face towards Kirk's and opened his eyes a crack.

'How long for?'

'I heard your voice. You were saying they miss me.'

He straightened himself out in the bed and pulled the blanket up around his chin, closing his eyes again against the light, and against Kirk's anxious face, and the reality of the world around him.

'They all do,' Kirk nodded. 'How do you feel now?'

'Better. A little better. Physically.' His voice was still dull and unenthusiastic.

'No one knows what really happened, yet,' Kirk assured him, although he wasn't sure if the Vulcan cared. 'Most of the ship just thinks you're ill in sickbay, after having a reaction to some drugs. I – wondered if you minded me letting some of them know the truth – just your closer friends.'

'If you wish,' Spock said flatly.

Kirk sighed. It was like attempting a conversation with a machine.

'Everyone wants you to get well quickly,' he said, forcing a smile.

'I heard. I will try, sir,' he said, but Kirk couldn't hear any conviction under his words.

'Spock, you do *_have*_ to try,' he urged him. 'You can't just let yourself slip into a hole and not come out.'

'As I said, I will try.'

Then his eyes fluttered closed, and he drifted to sleep again.

******

The next time that Kirk came in, Spock was almost free from the drowsiness brought on by the sedatives. The captain came into the room smiling, holding a chessboard in one hand, the pieces in a box in the other, hoping to elicit some response with Spock's favourite game. He put them down on a table by Spock's bed, and looked at the Vulcan. He was lying flat in bed, silent, his eyes looking straight up towards the ceiling. He didn't move when Kirk sat down beside him.

'How are you now, Spock?' Kirk asked with a gentle smile.

The Vulcan didn't answer. He just continued to stare up at the blank ceiling, completely detached from what was around him.

'Spock,' Kirk said more firmly. He touched the Vulcan's hand. 'Come on. I know you can hear me.'

The Vulcan turned his head slowly, and allowed himself a glance at his captain, then his eyes lost their focus again, looking past Kirk's side.

'Good morning, sir,' he said tonelessly, as if it was simply an automatic response.

'Spock, would you like a game of chess?' he asked. 'I brought the board in.'

'No, thank you, sir.'

Kirk's heart fell at that response. He could usually tempt Spock with a game of chess, but the answer had been just as automatic as the rest of his utterances. He had not even considered it.

'Spock, you have to come out of this,' he begged. 'You have to want to live. Please. I can't – I hate seeing you like this. So – so sad, and apart from everyone.'

The Vulcan turned to him, and Kirk thought he saw genuine curiosity sparking for a moment in Spock's eyes.

'Why are you all trying so hard to make me want to live?'

'Spock, you're precious, to a lot of people,' Kirk told him firmly. 'To Bones, and me. To your mother and father. Think of Christine Chapel. She loves you. She knows you can't love her, but she goes on loving you, even though she'll never have you. That has to say something about how much you're worth to her. There's Scotty, Uhura, Sulu, Chekov. All of the crew care about you. The people you've met in other places, on other planets. The ones who were on the _Enterprise_ before I came. They all care. Every one of the people I've just mentioned would fight, and struggle, and give up their own lives for yours – even if you're the one who wants to take it.'

The Vulcan's eyes met his again, and Kirk thought he saw something other than the terrible emptiness. Then that was gone. But at least Spock was looking at him now, connecting with the world. His eyes weren't quite so empty.

'I'll just sit with you, then,' Kirk decided.

He flicked the computer screen on, and put in one of the discs from the storage slot in the arm. He took in the title of the book, and began to read. He wasn't sure if Spock was listening, but he read until the Vulcan's eyes closed and the sedatives took effect again.

******

It was five days before Kirk gained a more positive response to his presence, but that improvement was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, simply for the hope that it brought to the captain's heart. The Vulcan was more awake now, and sitting up a little, his eyes looking brighter than they had done in weeks. He actually greeted the captain with a very faint smile.

'Hi, Spock,' Kirk greeted him quietly. 'How are you feeling today?'

'Stronger, Jim, and perhaps brighter,' the Vulcan replied. His voice did have more strength in it, and more of the tone it used to have. 'McCoy prescribed me a course of drugs which he hopes will lift my spirits. He anticipated their effect beginning to gather strength today, and he seems to be correct – as you can see.'

'Spock, are you sure, are you absolutely sure, that this isn't another Vulcan thing?' Kirk asked earnestly. He was pleased to see the Vulcan raise an eyebrow at the words, 'Vulcan thing', even if the gesture didn't look quite as enthusiastic as normal.

'I am not sure,' Spock replied, beginning to looked puzzled. 'I can never be sure. It does feel – strange. But not like a problem of my own biology. Not like anything I have been told of. We do learn of these things. But it is not like that.'

'In what way, then?' Kirk asked curiously.

'My mind,' he said confusedly. 'It is – as if these feelings are not entirely my own. As if I do not own my own thoughts.' He looked at Kirk briefly with genuine fear in his eyes. 'Jim – has Dr McCoy made any suggestion of – schizophrenia?'

'No!' Kirk said immediately. 'No, Spock, he has never once mentioned any indication of that – and he's done some pretty comprehensive brain scans on you. The only thing he's picked up is severe depression.'

Spock nodded, looking as if that was, in a way, a comfort to him.

'Spock,' Kirk began cautiously. 'Bones said, maybe by the time you actually – When you – When you cut your wrists, you might have been too drunk to know what you were doing. That you might not have set out to commit suicide.'

The Vulcan's forehead creased. He seemed to be looking inside himself.

'It's hazy in my mind, Jim,' he said eventually. 'I – remember considering suicide. Just considering it, as an abstract concept. I had been trying all night to sleep without medication. I meditated, I tried established relaxation techniques. I tried everything. I was tired – more tired than a Vulcan should be – and I knew that I had a shift in a few hours. I had a small drink. Then I had another. I wanted so desperately to sleep, and let my mind rest, so I took some of the sedatives. They didn't work. I kept drinking, and swallowing the pills. Nothing would make me sleep. I - I just felt - I began to feel – '

He broke off, unable to verbalise his feelings.

'I wanted to sleep, in any way that I could,' he continued, finally. 'I drank more – purposely trying to consume an amount that might render me unconscious. I took a whole handful of the sedatives. Then I broke one of the wine bottles on the edge of a cupboard, and used the glass, because I knew that the blood loss would make me sleep...' His voice began to lose its more confident tone, starting to shake. 'Jim, I don't know why. It was as if I didn't have any control. Everything seemed logical. Even the ideas of suicide. I felt a terrible need for something, for – my home sun above me, the warmth and reassurance of home – but there was no way to be there. No way but to sleep...'

'Spock, it's okay,' Kirk said quickly, reaching out to take the Vulcan's hand, seeing a trembling setting up through his body. He gripped the hand hard, forgetting about the cuts for the moment. 'It's okay. Don't talk about it any more if it's too hard for you.'

The Vulcan took a breath, steadying himself with great effort, and said, 'Thank you, Jim.'

He pulled his hand away, falling into a long, deep silence, dark eyes fixed intently on some invisible spot on the ceiling. Kirk sat by the bed, staying silent too, seeing that Spock was thinking deeply this time, rather than just staring vacantly.

'T'Si,' Spock said suddenly, a fevered urgency in his voice. 'The child T'Si. I must see her, Captain. Something is wrong. I must go to Vulcan.'

'T'Si?' Kirk echoed.

Spock had rescued the Vulcan baby only weeks ago, when a hostile alien ship had attacked Vulcan villages, killing her parents and every other person in her village. But now she had been adopted by a Vulcan couple, and was settling well with them. He knew that Spock had grown close to the child, but not this close.

'How do you know something's wrong?' he asked. 'How can you be so sure?'

'I can, Captain,' he said firmly. 'I cannot say how. But I am sure. She needs my help.'

'And that drove you to suicide?' Kirk asked, trying to keep incredulity from his voice. It was difficult to take this sudden, certain need seriously, coming from one as disturbed as Spock seemed to be at the moment.

'I – don't know,' he said heavily. 'But, Jim, I must return to Vulcan.'

He put his palms on the mattress, and tried to push himself up further, trying to get up.

'Not yet, Spock,' Kirk told him gently, putting his hands on the Vulcan's shoulders. 'You're not getting up yet. You're not that strong. You're not well. Anyway, what are you going to do?' he asked with a smile. 'Walk from here?'

Spock exhaled, and shook his head tiredly. 'No, of course,' he murmured.

'You're not going anywhere further than the ward head right now, Spock,' Kirk continued, 'and that's what Bones would tell you. I don't even know if you could get that far.'

Spock resisted for a moment, then let himself be pushed back down onto the mattress.

'Yes, Jim, you are right,' he said. 'I hardly have the strength.'

'Spock, would you like me to bring some things in?' Kirk asked to steer the subject away from this irrational need to return to Vulcan. 'Books. Your lyre.'

'I can order up any book on the computer screen,' Spock pointed out.

'What about the lyre? It might cheer you up to play it a little. I thought it always relaxed you.'

'I cannot play it, Jim,' Spock said tiredly. 'My hands and fingers are quite stiff from the wounds. The bandages prevent me from moving my wrists. And - '

He lifted a hand, and Kirk saw it tremble violently. He tried to pick up an empty cup, and it shook from his fingers.

'I take your point,' the captain told him, picking the cup up off the floor. 'I'm sorry.'

'There is no need. It was self-inflicted. I think it may take more than a lyre to 'cheer me up' anyway, Jim.'

He looked up as McCoy came through the doorway.

'Good afternoon, Doctor.'

'I think your internal clock needs resetting. It's morning,' McCoy smiled, the smile underlayed with the permanent expression of concern he tried to hide from the Vulcan. 'Spock, I'd like to speak to you. Would you go, Jim? This is patient and doctor. Confidential, even to the captain.'

'Okay. I'll come back later, Spock,' he said softly.

McCoy sat down by Spock's bed as Kirk vacated the chair.

'Spock, may I ask you some questions?' he began, once they were alone.

He nodded slightly, his dark eyes focussed on his bandaged arms. 'If you wish. It is your right.' He looked up abruptly, meeting McCoy's eyes for the first time. 'You think I am having a nervous breakdown, Doctor.'

'I think something's very wrong, Spock,' he said honestly, trying not to flinch from that intense, troubled gaze. 'I'm not sure what yet. That's why I want to talk to you.'

'I am not insane,' he said, his gaze dropping again. 'Only slightly depressed.'

'Trying to kill yourself doesn't come under the heading 'slightly',' McCoy said acerbically.

'Doctor, have I done any irreversible damage to myself?' Spock asked, beginning to sound irritated.

'You're damn lucky there's no permanent damage, Spock. Your heart was weakened, but it's fighting back to full strength. Your hands'll be fine once the cuts have healed. You might find some lack of co-ordination for a while. It might be difficult putting your finger on a spot, or holding a pen.'

'And the tremors?' Spock asked hesitantly.

'It's a side effect from the alcohol and the drugs, but it'll wear off. Spock,' he began cautiously. 'Spock, I want to talk to you about what caused this. I know you were withdrawn, and showing signs of depression. I know you were having trouble sleeping. Have you got any idea what might have caused that to happen, and what brought it to this point? It's incredible for a problem like this to develop and get to this point over a matter of a few weeks.'

Spock closed his eyes as some of the helpless, black feeling seeped back into his mind.

'I don't know what caused it… I – found myself unable to stop thinking - ' He broke off, and began again. 'I felt – I began to feel that my thoughts were not my own. I could never block them from my head. When I tried to sleep, the thoughts were there, and I could not block them out. Thoughts of despair, of purposelessness.

'Soon I found I was only sleeping for a half-hour each night, and sometimes less than that. Sometimes I could only gain five minutes of sleep. My mind wouldn't let me rest. But when I tried the sedatives, and slept, I dreamed, continuously. Nightmares, about the ship, my friends coming to harm. About T'Si needing my help. About needing to go to Vulcan. I kept seeing T'Si, and blood.'

'Spock, why couldn't you come to me?' McCoy asked him sadly. 'You could have come to me, told me what was happening, and I would have tried to help you.'

'I did not *_know*_ what was happening,' Spock said with a sudden, deeply repressed anger. 'I didn't understand. I have never felt like that before. I was – very afraid. The thoughts would crowd in. Worry about T'Si, a great need to go home to Vulcan, as if that was the only place I would be safe… I didn't understand why, and I knew if I came to you, you would deem me mad. I was not even certain that I was capable of carrying out my duties. And then there was the shuttle mission…'

He paused, looking at McCoy almost as if for absolution.

'But that wasn't your fault, Spock,' McCoy insisted. 'It wasn't your fault the turbulence panicked them, and it wasn't your fault that you were the only one to get a suit fully on before the hull breached.'

'They were all so young,' he said in a low voice. 'Young, excited humans. I should have thought of their emotional reactions in such a situation. If I had not been operating below my usual parameters…'

'Spock, the logs, the video, the damage reports – they all completely vindicate you,' McCoy assured him. 'Believe me. The storm was completely unexpected, the emergency developed within a few minutes. According to the reports, you did everything absolutely correctly. They hadn't had proper survival suit training, but that wasn't your fault. All the paperwork indicated that they'd passed all the requisite tests. You did the logical thing, and got your own suit on, trusting that they'd be able to do the same. You can't be blamed for doing what is natural to you.'

'A Vulcan ghi-van does what is natural to it when it builds its nest - but that doesn't alter the fact that it kills hundreds of other birds to use the bones and feathers in the building.'

'If you'd acted like a human, and fluttered around trying to help them, no one would have survived,' McCoy said firmly. 'Now, you know it wasn't your fault. All the reports back that up. So you can scratch that off your list of things to regret.'

Spock's eyebrow rose. 'Doctor, you speak as if I had decided to become depressed, and assembled a list of reasons why. I did not. The feeling simply – came upon me – and the shuttle incident merely compounded it.'

'You say it just came upon you? How?'

Spock shook his head. 'I – feel – '

He hesitated, looking deeply reluctant to speak.

'Spock,' McCoy assured him. 'This is completely, utterly confidential. You can tell me whatever you like.'

He nodded slowly, focussing his eyes on the wall opposite his bed.

'I – felt as if there were voices, speaking in my head, that were not mine,' he said. 'They simply – began – but I had no thought of questioning them until the drugs you have prescribed in the last few days began to take effect.'

'Do you still feel as if those voices are there?' McCoy asked carefully.

'To a lesser extent, since this drug regime,' Spock said.

'Spock, some of the drugs are neuro-suppressors,' McCoy said, trying to keep the tone of eagerness out of his voice. He couldn't help but worrying that he was clutching at straws. 'They help to dampen down the more acute responses in your mind. They also have a residual effect on your telepathic ability.'

'Do you mean to say that they suppress it?' Spock asked curiously.

'Yes, Spock.'

'I am not certain why, but T'Si figures strongly in my thoughts at the moment,' Spock said slowly. 'Is it possible that the uncontrolled thoughts of a child – ?'

'Spock, we're awfully far out from Vulcan for telepathy to work, aren't we?' McCoy said doubtfully. 'And wouldn't you know if it was T'Si?'

'T'Si herself may not know. She will not have finite control of her own thoughts. She knows my patterns - the fingerprint of my mind - and she can link without touching, over distances. Not a link as you know it. Simply - It has not been described in words, Doctor.'

'But you know when she needs you, when she's in trouble, and the same with you for her?'

'Something like that, Doctor. But – I find myself more and more certain that she does need me. She is calling for me - right now.'


	5. Chapter 5

5.

McCoy had been correct about the Vulcan speed of recovery from psychological illnesses such as this. While Spock was by no means back to normal, with the aid of the doctor's drugs and careful, focussed meditation he had finally been allowed to leave sickbay, and to resume a reduced shift pattern.

He felt a certain degree of apprehension as he lay down to sleep the night before his first shift. Sleep was at least possible for him now, free from tormented dreams, but he was uncertain about resuming his duties tomorrow morning. There was nothing to be done about it, however. He _*had_* to at least start following the patterns of his former life, in the hope that going through the motions would eventually restore normality. His thought processes felt fragile, at best, and the odd feeling of a dulled telepathic sense was difficult to come to terms with – but the best way to combat fragility was exercise, and only a strengthened ability to control his thoughts would lead to the reduction of the drugs that suppressed his telepathic ability.

He had, at least, managed a full night's sleep before the computer's soft voice broke into the darkness.

'Commander Spock. It is an hour before your morning shift begins.'

Spock ignored the morning call. The computer responded to the silence, speaking a little louder.

'Commander Spock.'

Spock opened his eyes, and saw that the computer had filled the room with a dim glow, for a gentle wake-up. He took in the room around him, feeling curiously reluctant to get out of bed into the reality of that room, then closed his eyes again.

'Commander Spock,' the computer chimed again after an interval of five minutes. 'Captain Kirk is up, and showered. You are both due on duty at the same time. You are only approximately five minutes more efficient than the captain in the morning.'

'Shut up,' he muttered humanly, then forced his logic to kick in. He sat up, fumbling beside his bed to turn the call off.

'Commander Spock.'

The call was getting more forceful. It was still respectful, but with an annoying insistence in the tone.

'Yes. I hear,' he protested. 'Computer off.'

'Yes, sir.' The computer was silent for a moment, then came back on. 'Do you require any assistance, sir?'

'Select my uniform for me and prepare my usual morning meal to be ready in nine point five minutes. And turn the lights up to normal, please.'

'Yes, sir.' The lights brightened smoothly to the usual illumination. 'Will you not be taking breakfast in the recreation room, Commander?'

'Computer, if I had wanted to have an argument immediately upon waking up, I would have asked for a human, preferably female, yeoman,' Spock said crisply. 'You are meant to serve, not to converse with the crew.'

'Yes, Commander.'

Spock heard a buzz, and took his uniform from an alcove that was identical to those that delivered food in the recreation rooms. He laid the fresh clothes on the bed, found a towel, and went through into the bathroom that he shared with the captain. While he was standing under the shower, he heard Kirk come in, whistling cheerfully.

'Morning, Spock,' he called through the screen.

'Good morning, Jim.'

Spock stepped out of the cubicle, pressing water from his hair with his hand, and Kirk passed him his towel.

'Thank you.'

As he towelled the water away, he noted that the captain was fully dressed, and looked as if he had been awake for an hour.

'Feeling better this morning?' Kirk asked casually.

'Yes, sir, thank you for asking,' he said, but he couldn't quite keep a note of reticence from his voice.

'You're welcome to take the day off.'

'No, sir,' he insisted. 'Not on my first bridge shift after – ' He trailed off, then said, 'I do feel much better today. It helps to work. Dr McCoy acknowledges that.'

'The computer reports you were unusually rude to it.'

'I am beginning to suspect that someone has installed a gossip circuit in that computer,' Spock said darkly. 'Am I incorrect in believing that it has become very much more – chatty – recently?'

'No, you're not,' Kirk said ruefully. 'Someone in computing decided it needed to be more friendly.'

Spock's eyebrow rose. 'The computing department has obviously felt my absence… It chivvied me out of bed by telling me how our speeds compare in rising in the morning.'

'Oh? And how do I do?' Kirk grinned.

'Five minutes worse than I.'

Spock turned, and went back to his own room. Kirk followed him into the room, and sat down behind Spock's desk while the Vulcan dressed behind his bedroom partition. Spock came through looking as precisely neat as ever, and fetched his breakfast tray from the replicator.

'Have you eaten, sir?' he asked as he sat.

'Yes. I'm all ready for my shift. I'm just early. I may as well wait for you, Spock.'

Spock began to eat, knowing he was being 'looked after' by his friend. He felt a certain comfort in Jim staying so close to him all the time, but he kept up an outside pretence of simply tolerating the intrusion. It was what Jim expected of him.

******

Kirk walked casually up to Spock's station on the bridge, putting his hands on the back of the chair as he leaned over to speak to him. He often made these tours of the bridge during a shift. It helped to give him an idea of what was going on, and how each individual member of the crew was doing in their given roles. This time, however, each stop was just a cursory courtesy, before getting to Spock's station.

'You're doing great, Spock,' he said quietly, with an encouraging smile. 'You're coping very well.'

'Everyone has been very understanding,' the Vulcan replied in an equally low tone, without turning from his boards. 'Their support is greatly appreciated.'

Kirk came around to lean against Spock's console, reading the veiled thanks for his own personal attention.

'They all care a lot about you, you know,' he said.

'Yes, I know, Jim.'

Spock met his eyes for a moment, sending a silent smile, then turned back to his console, every inch the efficient, unemotional Vulcan.

Kirk went down to his chair in the centre of the bridge, and sat down, deliberately trying not to watch his friend as he worked. He was relieved that it seemed to be developing into an uneventful, relaxed day, and Spock was carrying out his duties with his usual quiet efficiency. Then he felt rather than heard a focus of activity at the communications station, and he turned to see Uhura listening intently through her earpiece, her hand holding the device firmly to her head in order to hear every word clearly.

He looked at her enquiringly as she removed the earpiece.

'A piece of news from Starfleet Command, sir,' she said. 'An ion storm. They thought we should be notified.'

'Relay, Lieutenant.'

'There were casualties on a passenger ship, the _Hedd Wyn_,five days ago, not far from here.'

Kirk interest sharpened immediately. There had been too much trouble with ion storms recently. They were one of the most frustrating events to him as a starship captain – a completely natural occurrence, vastly more powerful than a simple starship, and something which he had no ability to combat or affect in any way.

'Anyone dead?' he asked.

'A human woman and a young baby, sir, and one of the crew. There was a minor hull breach.'

Spock stiffened at his console, his fragile bubble of equanimity bursting without warning. He had thought he had been controlling himself so well… The strength went from his knees, and he sat down in his chair with a bump. _*T'Si…_* T'Si's tiny, fragile life, a nothing in the face of the awesome power of nature. He had to go to Vulcan...

'The storm's running this way,' Uhura continued, unconscious of Spock's reaction. 'We'll probably miss it, but it's a violent one, and they thought we should know.'

'Thank you, Lieutenant,' Kirk nodded.

Spock turned back to his switches, trying to refocus his mind on his work, but it was no use. The deathly coldness was creeping through his mind like a developing fog. He rested his head in his palm, trying desperately to control the feeling. At that moment Uhura stood to take a disc to him, but she saw the way he was sitting, and went quickly to the captain instead. She touched his shoulder silently, and he looked up. She nodded towards Spock. Kirk got to his feet quickly, and went to his chair.

'Spock,' he said quietly.

Spock deliberately kept his back to Kirk, but the captain could see the whiteness of his knuckles where he gripped at the edge of the console.

'Captain. May I be excused?' he asked in a hollow voice.

'Spock,' Kirk said softly, coming around to face him.

Spock's face was rigidly expressionless, his eyes glittering and his cheeks almost white. There was a green flush where his hand had been pressed against his forehead in a furious attempt to control his reaction.

'Jim, I cannot be seen like this,' he said in a voice that was almost a whisper.

'Of course not,' Kirk said softly, putting a hand on his arm. 'Come with me.'

He walked with Spock into the lift, beckoning Uhura as he passed her. Spock leant back against the wall in the elevator as soon as the doors were closed, and shut his eyes.

'I'm sorry, Captain,' he said quietly, keeping his face composed.

He opened his eyes, and was momentarily startled by the presence of Uhura. He had not sensed her with them. He focussed himself exclusively on Jim.

'Something – strange – is affecting me,' he said, trying to keep desperation out of his tone. 'But, Jim, I – must go to Vulcan, on the _Enterprise_, or by some other means. T'Si - '

'Has nothing to do with the death of a child on a passenger ship,' Kirk said firmly. 'It was a freak storm. T'Si is quite safe on Vulcan, hundreds of parsecs away.'

'I'm sorry, Mr Spock,' Uhura said softly. 'I just read the message as it came through. I didn't think - '

He shook his head, controlling an instantaneous second of anger at the intrusion of her voice, before rationalising and accepting her presence.

'I would not expect you to, Lieutenant,' he said steadily. 'Captain, I know that this incident cannot affect the Vulcan child,' he said, turning to Kirk. 'But I must go to Vulcan. I cannot explain how I know. I'm not sure I know myself, and you would not understand in human terms – but I must go.' His voice was beginning to sound desperate now. 'Jim, please - '

'You can talk to T'Si's adopted family through subspace communications, Spock,' Kirk said firmly. 'There's no need for you to go there.'

'I have already done so, sir,' he said.

His voice was beginning to shake. He could not understand his own mind. This was intolerable…

'And?' Kirk asked.

'They say that she has been crying more than usual.'

'That's not particularly unusual for a baby. She could be teething.'

'She has already teethed.'

'Babies cry all the time. Other from that?'

'She is healthy. They brought her to the screen so that I could see her. But I must go, Captain. You cannot understand the complexities of a Vulcan's mind. You cannot understand how I know, but I do know I must go.'

Spock closed his eyes again, his shoulders shaking with the effort to keep control, to stop his statement becoming a desperate plea.

'Spock, maybe I can't understand Vulcan complexities,' Kirk nodded. 'But I can understand when a person is being totally illogical. The death of three people – especially of a child – is something that hits us all hard, but we can't do anything. Try not to take it too much to heart. There was nothing anyone could do to help the people who died. And it has nothing to do with T'Si. You know that.'

The lift doors opened in front of them.

'Uhura, go with Mr Spock to the sickbay,' Kirk ordered. 'Try to find Dr McCoy. Make sure he stays for a check up.'

'Yes, sir,' she nodded solemnly. 'Mr Spock?'

He looked at her, appearing dazed for a moment. She took his arm and led him out of the elevator, letting the doors close to take Kirk back to the bridge. The Vulcan didn't resist her hand.

'He doesn't understand,' Spock said. 'He doesn't understand that what I say is not pure emotionalism. I do know that I must go to Vulcan.' He turned to face the woman. 'Lieutenant, you trust my word, don't you?'

Uhura looked into his white face, and the strange, unaccustomed pleading in his eyes, and shook her head.

'I'm not sure, sir,' she said honestly. 'I'm sorry. I know that people sometimes can feel something's wrong before it happens, or just know things, but - '

'But you are not sure I am in full control of my sensibilities?'

'After everything that's happened, Mr Spock?' she asked sadly. 'No. I don't think you are. Not yet.'

Spock inhaled deeply. 'Perhaps I am not,' he nodded. 'But some things I _*do_* know, whether Captain Kirk believes me or not.'

'Sir, I don't know if you always understand the captain,' she said softly. 'He's worried about you – deeply worried. You – haven't exactly been displaying rational behaviour lately, and he can't just turn the ship around on a whim' she said awkwardly. 'He cares about you. He just wants you to get _*better_*. We all do.'

Spock held his hands out to her, palms up.

'That is why I must go to Vulcan,' he insisted.

Uhura looked down, and her eyes fell upon the green, aching scars of the vicious slashes made by broken glass, reaching out of Spock's sleeves and onto his palms, still not healed fully. Spock followed her gaze. He quickly pulled his blue sleeves down over the cuts, and locked his trembling hands tightly behind his back.

Uhura met his eyes sadly, and Spock could see that he had little chance of convincing her of any seed of rationality in his need to go to Vulcan. If he was honest with himself, he could barely find a seed of rationality himself – he only knew that it was what he had to do, as strongly and instinctively as the need had hit him at pon farr.

'Look,' she said. 'I've been taking updates on our course and missions from Command. We'll probably be going to Vulcan next month. Maybe you can beam down then, and put your mind to rest?'

'I most certainly will beam down,' Spock nodded, as they went into sickbay. There was some small relief in that news. 'I do not need a medical check now, Lieutenant,' he said, shaking his head. 'I will just go to my quarters.'

'Let me be the judge of that,' McCoy said, rising from behind his desk at the Vulcan's entrance. 'What's the matter with him, Uhura?' he asked, eyeing Spock with a professional interest.

'Mr Spock was – upset by some news on the bridge,' she said half reluctantly. 'The captain was worried about him.'

'Leave him here then, and I'll sort him out,' he said with a reassuring smile.

Uhura nodded with a smile, and went back to the turbo lift.

'Well, Spock?' McCoy asked, leaning on his desk as he pressed the door lock there. 'What happened? All the doors are soundproof, and I've engaged the privacy lock,' he reassured him. 'This is completely confidential.'

Spock sat down opposite him with a palpable sense of relief. Despite the usual surface display of antagonism between him and the doctor he had grown to trust McCoy as a non-critical and understanding confidante over the past few weeks. There was a great sense of reassurance in McCoy's oath of privacy.

'I heard of an accident on a passenger ship, in which a young child was killed,' he said simply.

'And it made you think of T'Si?' McCoy realised immediately. 'You can't get that out of your head, can you?'

'The subject does continuously resurface in my consciousness,' Spock said, with an apologetic shrug of his shoulders.

'And it induced – emotion?' McCoy asked him carefully.

Spock nodded briefly. He had become used to discussing the unpleasant subject of emotion with McCoy.

'I am managing to control my reaction now,' he said. 'But also,' he began cautiously, 'it made me sure that I must go to Vulcan.'

He saw by the expression on McCoy's face that the doctor was readying himself for another irrational explanation of why he _*must_* go to Vulcan.

'Something is wrong there,' he insisted, trying to keep his voice steady. 'Something is wrong with the child, even if her adoptive parents do not recognise it. The captain does not seem to trust in my instinct. Lieutenant Uhura could see only these cuts on my arms.' He touched his arm lightly under his sleeve, tracing the tactile reminders of something gone terribly wrong in his mind. He sighed. 'Perhaps they are right.'

McCoy actually smiled at that, as if he was pleased by Spock's acknowledgement of his own irrationality.

'It keeps coming back to that, doesn't it, Spock?' he asked. 'Going back to Vulcan. Even before you said anything about T'Si, you were talking about going back to Vulcan.'

'That is true,' Spock nodded.

That, of course, was not in his favour. He was creating excuses, nothing but excuses, to explain an irrational desire.

'Of course, the last time you had an apparently crazy need to get to Vulcan, you were quite right,' McCoy pointed out sagely. 'If we hadn't listened to you, you would have died.'

Spock looked at him, grateful at his attempt to understand, but certain that this time had no relation to that one.

'I appreciate your point, but this is not pon farr,' he said with certainty. 'And I know of no other biological event which would demand a return to my home…'

'But every fibre of your body is telling you to go back there,' McCoy mused. 'Whether it's just to see your home sun, or be sure T'Si is all right – _*something_* is pulling you back there.'

Spock inclined his head with a sigh.

'Spock, do you remember watching security videos of the bridge in your quarters?' McCoy asked. 'That time Uhura and I came and took you to sickbay?'

'Vaguely,' Spock admitted. 'Much of that time is a confusion in my mind.'

'I'm almost certain that they were of the time you had little T'Si on board – when you had to bring her to the bridge with you, because you didn't trust the sickbay nurses to take care of her.' He looked at the Vulcan directly. 'Spock, you're better - _*much_* better – than you were, but that's partly because of the medication you're taking. I'm not discounting your own efforts at control, but you have to admit that the medication is doing a large part of the job for you.'

Spock nodded silently.

'That is true,' he said with some reluctance. 'And I do not like taking the medication. It dulls my thoughts. It dulls my telepathic sense. I feel – muted – is the only way to describe it.'

'And you think, somehow, for some unknown reason, that going to Vulcan will help you in some way?'

He nodded again. 'However, I admit myself the irrationality of that belief.'

'That aside,' McCoy said. 'I've done what I can for you, and you're doing everything *_you*_ can. If you go to Vulcan, and see T'Si, you'll find out for certain if you're right to be concerned about her. And if there's nothing wrong – well, like I said, I've done what I can for you in human terms. A Vulcan doctor may be able to help you further.'

Spock nodded, carefully controlling the burst of relief that McCoy's statement had provoked in him.

'Lieutenant Uhura says that we will be travelling to Vulcan in the next month,' he said. 'But I am not sure if that will be soon enough. I must get there before then, by any means.'

'I hope you're not thinking of mutinying and taking the ship again,' McCoy said quickly. 'Because if you are, don't. I know you managed to get Commodore Pike to Talos safely, and you were acquitted of all charges, but it won't work again. There's bound to be some record of it somewhere, and Starfleet doesn't take too kindly to first officers persistently veering away from all logic and stealing their starships.'

'I was not thinking of anything so crude, Doctor,' Spock said, shaking his head. 'I was merely considering applying for leave, so that I might make my own way back to my planet.'

'I guess you'd get it, at that,' McCoy said. 'After what happened, they'd probably be in favour of you taking some time off.'

'This will not be time off, Doctor,' Spock corrected him. 'I am convinced that something is badly wrong.'

'Hmm,' McCoy said noncommittally. He was as convinced as Spock that going to Vulcan was a good idea, but his concern about T'Si could not help but have a ring of irrationality to it. 'Anyway, I'm coming with you,' he said firmly.

'Thank you very much for the offer, but there is no need,' Spock said.

'It wasn't an offer. It was a statement. My medical authority can keep you on the ship, on the grounds of mental instability. My medical authority can also get me permission to go with you, on the grounds of your mental instability.'

'You leave me with little choice,' Spock nodded. 'And your company may be advantageous.'

'I'll take that as a compliment. And I want to keep an eye on you. You said your state of mind might not have been totally influenced by what you think you felt from T'Si. I'd like to be with you. Just anything to keep you from jumping off bridges.'

Spock looked perplexed. 'The only bridge on the _Enterprise_, Doctor, is the command bridge, and one cannot jump off that. It is an enclosed area.'

McCoy waved a hand. 'Never mind, Spock. Just start applying for leave. If there's any trouble, my medical authority can get you leave, on grounds of - '

'Mental instability, I know, Doctor,' Spock finished.

'On grounds of work-related stress,' McCoy told him. 'Nothing better for work-related stress than going home for a spell.'

******

'What's this?'

Kirk paced back across McCoy's living quarters, and slapped a red disk down onto his table amongst the various medical tomes and odd curios that scattered the surface.

'What's it supposed to mean, Bones?'

'It means I want leave, Jim,' McCoy said calmly.

'No it doesn't. That's not what it says.' He slapped down another disk, yellow, this time. 'This is a formal request from Spock. A request for two weeks leave. And this - ' He pointed at the red one. 'This is a disk from you, requesting that you accompany him, and that his leave extends to however long you think necessary.'

'Jim, Spock's been under a lot of strain recently,' McCoy said in a conciliatory tone. 'He's been under a lot of strain since this five year mission began. And this time, it beat him. He only wants a little time. Two weeks away from the pressure, without any life or death worries, without responsibility for almost four hundred thirty people. And I'm going with him, as his doctor. After what he tried, Command wouldn't have it any other way.'

'Bones, you're going to go to Vulcan, aren't you?' Kirk asked, his voice rising. 'You believe Spock's insane idea, and you're taking him to Vulcan.'

'Whether Spock's right or wrong, he has to find out. Ever since he tried to kill himself he's had something in his mind telling him to leave the ship, to go to Vulcan. He needs to do that. Not long ago he felt he had to leave the ship even if the only way to do that was to die.'

'I can't let you go,' Kirk said firmly. 'You're humouring him, Bones. He doesn't deserve that. He needs to be here, with his friends, where I can – where we can look after him.'

'Jim, if you don't let Spock get away from this ship, he will break down completely,' McCoy said in a firm, low voice. 'I don't know whether it's him, or what he says he feels from T'Si. Whether he's pining for that baby, or is just plain miserable, or what. But he tried to commit suicide. Whatever the reason, he has to have a break, and his home planet is the best place to take that break. And you can't stop him, Jim. I've already spoken to Command. They agree with my medical statements, and my requests.'

'Thanks a lot,' Kirk said bitterly. 'Thanks for coming to me first.'

'I knew you wouldn't want Spock to leave the ship right now, and I knew he had to. I'm sorry, Jim. I know you believe what you believe is right, but I believe in keeping your crew healthy, and Spock needs to get away from here for a little while.'

'That's an awful lot of belief for *_just an old country doctor_*,' Kirk said testily. 'What about permits? Is your travel permit up to date?'

'What do you think, Jim?' McCoy asked sarcastically. 'I do work on a starship, you know.'

'Okay,' he conceded. 'But how are you going to get to Vulcan from here? Do you know how much it costs to travel that far on passenger ships? And you don't know how far away _Enterprise_ will be when you want to come back.'

'Spock says he has all that sorted. We'll be docking at Starbase 5 soon. Spock has transport arranged from there to Vulcan. We can get back to the ship the same way.'

'Provided you can find us.'

'Jim, Spock *_needs*_ this,' McCoy said firmly. 'In my professional, medical opinion, he needs this. Whether he's really being called by something to Vulcan, or whether it's all just some crazy fantasy in his mixed-up mind, he needs this. You have to acknowledge that your ship isn't your kingdom, and you can't always cure everything without stepping foot outside its walls.'

'Is that what you really think, Bones?' Kirk asked, suddenly abashed by the impression he must be giving over. 'That I'm the king of a sheltered realm, and I can't acknowledge the use of the world outside?'

McCoy sighed. 'I think you're hugely protective of this ship and its people,' he said. 'You have to be. That's what makes you the excellent captain that you are. I also think you're hugely protective of Spock, because he's your closest friend, and you hate to think of something going on with him that you can't help him with.'

Kirk shook his head. 'Maybe you're right,' he said with a wan smile. 'I – can't stand to see him in this state – but the idea of him being somewhere that I can't help him is even worse. But I know he needs rest. I'm just – annoyed – at you for letting him carry on believing a three month old baby is calling him to Vulcan and pushing him to suicide. It's not fair for you to humour him like this. He deserves to know he's imagining it all.'

'Jim, you're not a psychiatrist,' McCoy said patiently. 'Just – trust me to do what's best for him. He's my friend too, you know. And I will take care of him, I promise.'


	6. Chapter 6

6.

Janas knocked softly on her brother's door, and entered before he had the time to answer, balancing a small tray on her palm.

'Haian,' she called softly.

Her brother was staring out of his window, over the trees and houses and oblong gardens of their small but organised town, and not really seeing any of them. She had to touch him on the shoulder before he heard her. He seemed to have to shake himself out of a trance, then turned to her, looking dazed.

'Sister. I did not hear you knock.'

'Haian, you are becoming more and more distant, she said worriedly, putting the tray down beside him on the sill. 'You must eat, you must sleep, and you must turn up for your work, or you will lose your job. I cannot keep saying you are sick. What is wrong with you?'

He looked up at the sky for a long moment, and shrugged.

'I do not know,' he said. 'I find myself increasingly drawn to – something, since I began to meditate. Since I heard the voice, telling me. Someone is coming here. I know that - I really do. I know where he will come, and where we must meet him. Both of us. I don't know who he is, though, or when he will come.'

'You are probably experiencing audible hallucinations through lack of food,' she told him sternly, holding up a dripping spoonful of the broth she had prepared. 'Eat this now.'

He swallowed the spoonful automatically, then looked back out of the window. Then he shook himself, and slid down off the windowsill, taking the bowl into his hands.

'Thank you for the meal. I am sorry, Janas.'

'Tell that to our parents. They are becoming very worried about you.'

'I will speak to them, and tell them that I was simply feeling a little - a little unwell.'

'Who is speaking to you, Haian?' Janas asked.

She was finally beginning to believe him. She had never known her brother to bother with anything that wasn't real, or possible.

'Who is going to meet us?'

A slow smile spread over his face, coupled with a look of anticipation and wonder.

'A Vulcan. We are going to meet a Vulcan, sister.'

******

In his mind, Suaniak smiled with satisfaction.

******

Spock and McCoy stepped out of the starbase turbolift near the docking ports, and began down the long corridor to the hangar area.

'I would have preferred to come with the captain's blessing,' Spock was saying. 'I cannot understand why he is so reluctant that I go to my home planet.'

'He's just worried, Spock,' McCoy assured him. 'He's worried his best friend is crazy, and that his doctor is following him. I think he'd just rather we were on the ship where he could keep an eye on us.'

'I see,' he nodded. 'Then I will try to understand.'

'You still haven't told me how we're getting to Vulcan, Spock,' McCoy prodded. 'I hate travelling on passenger ships, where they treat you all like sightseers,' he grumbled.

'I am sure you will not be treated as a sightseer, Dr McCoy, unless you begin to act like one,' Spock said tolerantly. 'You are familiar of the working of ships, are you not?'

'I know how to fly one if I need to, if that's what you mean. But you don't get let onto the bridge on these kind of ships.'

'You will be allowed on *_my* _bridge, Doctor,' Spock said firmly. 'I am counting on your ability to operate a small ship, so that we may take shifts on duty. There is an autopilot, but I prefer for someone to be on the bridge.'

'*_Your* _bridge?' McCoy asked. 'I didn't know you owned a ship, Spock.'

'You do not know everything about me, Dr McCoy,' Spock said, with something approaching smugness. 'It is convenient when I take leave, to have transportation of my own.'

'How long have you been hiding this ship away for, then?'

'I did not attempt to hide the ship from you. You simply have never asked me if I own one. She has been mine for fifteen years. I keep her in docks on Vulcan, and, when I need her, there are plenty of pilots willing to take her to where I want her. They fly to their destination free of charge, rather than paying to be a passenger. Of course, they may also take paying passengers, which means both the pilot and I make money out of the journey. It is a logical, profitable arrangement.'

'How big is she?'

'Large enough.'

'Not as big as the _Enterprise_.'

Spock's eyebrow rose. 'I do not own that much money, Doctor. She is a small space-yacht, built for a crew of three. Large enough to be comfortable, and yet small enough to be efficient and manageable, as well as economic. Part of the power comes from solar cells. The science station almost equals that of the _Enterprise_. She can fly in an atmosphere, and can also sail upon fluid surfaces. There are three single cabins, which can hold more than one person if necessary. Also a small mess room, and adjoining galley.'

'Bet you don't have a sickbay?' McCoy said grudgingly.

'There is a medical room, Doctor. I am sure you will be pleased to know that it is adjacent to your cabin.'

'Spock, I know first officers get paid more than doctors, but where'd'you get the money for a ship that size? She doesn't sound quite like your average second hand hulk most people have if they own a ship.'

'She is second hand,' Spock explained. 'My father used her for his personal transport to some diplomatic missions. When he was issued with a new ship, I bought this one, at a reduced price. As I said, she's efficient on fuel, with her solar panels. One is usually near enough to the stars to gain some energy from them, but there is also a dilithium reactor. She is as cheap to run as an 'old hulk'.'

'So, what's her name? Or don't Vulcans give ships names? I bet you just use the registration number. Wouldn't stoop to an illogical name.'

'Her name is _Alcyone_, Doctor,' Spock replied with a glint of humour in his eye. 'It would be unlucky to launch a ship that had no name.'

'_Alcyone_?' McCoy asked curiously.

'It is the name of a star in the Pleiadies. One of the seven sisters.'

'I know that. I'd have thought you'd've given it a Vulcan name.'

'As you frequently point out, Doctor, I am half human. It seemed fitting to give the ship the name of a star. It is also the name of a sea-ship that belonged to a man on Earth, in the twentieth century. A Frenchman named Cousteau.'

McCoy shook his head. 'I'm not sure I remember him.'

'He was a person who cared about the water he sailed upon,' the Vulcan said simply.

They swung around a corner, and Spock opened the doors to one of the starbase's smaller hangars. McCoy peered in, and the first thing his eyes hit was a luxury space yacht, painted in blue and white, with the name _Alcyone_ clearly but beautifully written across the bow. The ship towered above, and outshone, the clusters of small, battered, and ancient space-cruisers that were all that most private owners could afford. McCoy found some irony in the fact that rich owners seemed only to use their new ships for planet hopping, and short journeys, while the ones who wanted vessels to cross parsecs of hazardous space were forced to make-do with these second-hand hulks.

Coming closer to Spock's ship, he made out the edges of newer white paint behind the letters of _Alcyone_, where a previous name had been blanked out.

'What was she called before you had her?' McCoy asked curiously.

'My father called her _Tsia-lian_, a Vulcan translation of my mother's name. He transferred the name to his new ship, so I was compelled to give her a new name.'

The doctor smiled. He was learning a lot about the sentimentality of Vulcans recently.

The yacht looked almost like a boat from Earth's oceans, with a pointed bow and flat stern, but it also looked like a space ship. Instead of having sails, the entire white hull was composed of solar panels, designed to soak up energy from every direction. Spock walked up to the entrance hatch and pressed his palm to a small, sensitive pad. There was a sharp click, and the hatch hissed open, letting a small flight of stairs down to the ground.

'Doctor,' he nodded, gesturing McCoy into the ship.

'I didn't expect her to be this big,' McCoy said, slightly in awe. 'Are you sure we can sail her, with only two of us?'

'I can captain her alone. Much of the control system is automated. But I do prefer to have help. She is not really so big, Doctor, but in the private dock, amongst the smaller ships, she does appear to be quite large.'

'So, when do we leave?'

'When we are given clearance for departure. Our luggage has already been transported aboard. I would like to have time for you to familiarise yourself with the ship.'

McCoy reached up a hand to shut the hatch. It slid closed smoothly, with the touch of a single button, but the door sealed with a reassuring noise of complete imperviousness to the hazards of space.

'How do you feel now, Spock?' he asked curious. 'Now we're on our way?'

'We are not on our way yet,' Spock said, becoming serious. 'I still feel the – I can only describe it as a calling from the child.'

'And you think you can handle this ship all the way to Vulcan? You don't think you should get a crew on board?'

'I pilot my own ship, Doctor,' Spock said firmly. 'I am familiar with the _Alcyone_. I have sailed her many times.'

The Vulcan shivered suddenly.

'I'm sorry, Doctor. The humanoid who brought the ship here was from a water planet. He preferred his surroundings cold and damp. I must readjust the environmental settings.'

'Not to a Vulcan one?' McCoy asked apprehensively, preparing for days of exhausting, dry heat.

'To a human one,' Spock told him. 'I am fully accustomed to your climatic conditions. I would not subject a human to the heat I enjoy. And the cat does not like such a hot habitat.'

'The cat?' McCoy repeated, wondering if he had heard right. 'You have a *_cat*_ on board?'

'Technically she is not precisely a cat, but she resembles a cat at least as much as a human resembles a Vulcan. She made her home on this ship when it was docked on Rigel at one time, and by an oversight was not discovered until the craft was well into deep space. She is a Rigelian tundra cat, not used to such heat as we have on Vulcan.'

'I didn't think you were the sort to have pets,' McCoy said doubtfully. 'Would've thought they were illogical.'

'She is not a pet. It was not my choice, Doctor. As I said, she made her home here, and she will not live anywhere else. She does not belong to me – she simply cohabits.'

'Bet you have to feed her, though?' McCoy asked cynically.

'That is true,' Spock nodded. 'But I do not mind. She is a large animal, but the amount she consumes is not great. She will eat mostly the scraps of the occupier's food.'

'A large animal?' McCoy repeated with some apprehension.

'Roughly the size of an earth leopard,' Spock said calmly, stepping through an automatic door.

'Roughly the – ! Great,' McCoy said sarcastically. 'Now I find out we have to spend the whole trip in a ship that has a lion as a pet. Why did I ever come?'

'As I recall, you insisted on it,' Spock said smoothly.

'And I bet all you have in the fridge is vegetables and cat food,' he added in a disgruntled tone.

'I had the ship stocked up with food suitable for humans before our arrival.'

'Spock, how far does this vegetarian thing go?' McCoy asked curiously. 'Would you eat a triphid?'

'I beg your pardon?'

'A triphid. It's a kind of plant that goes around eating people.'

'Ah,' Spock nodded. 'Like a Nevarian turani.'

'Except these things walk, and they seem to have some intelligence, and they're not real.'

'Not real?'

'Spock, have you never read Day of the Triphids?'

'You're talking about a book, Doctor? I do not usually read science fiction. And no, I would not eat a plant that possessed intelligence. That would constitute a sentient being.'

'Ye Gods,' the doctor muttered. 'Imagine a race of plants joining the Federation. Joining Starfleet. The replicators get confused enough as it is, with all the alien foods they have to churn out. Imagine them being programmed for soil! We'd end up with grit in everyth-'

He broke off, as a sleek, fast animal, coloured a flawless black from tip to tail – which he was sure was further than the average leopard – bounded through a door with a joyous brrrp, and leapt at the Vulcan, paws outstretched.

'Spock!' he roared, preparing to see the Vulcan ripped to bits.

Spock simply raised an eyebrow, and caught the animal's front legs smoothly as it launched itself through the air. He crouched down, and passed a hand along the cat's back, and the air was filled with ear-splitting rumbles, like a tabby cat purring through an amplification system, while sharp, white, inch long claws kneaded in and out of the carpet.

'Spock, that is not a leopard,' McCoy said firmly. 'That is a monster. It's the size of a lion.'

The Vulcan looked up, one hand unconsciously smoothing the fur down on the cat's chest as it rolled onto its back and stretched.

'She has grown a little, I admit. But there is nothing to be afraid of, Doctor.'

'Who's afraid?' McCoy asked with a careless shrug, while he put an extra foot's distance between himself and the cat. 'That thing only pounced on you and almost knocked you from here to Earth.'

'She was simply pleased to see me. She is perfectly gentle.'

'Just like her master, eh?' the doctor asked, crouching down and reaching out a hand to the cat, prepared to at least try for friendship.

'I would not know,' Spock answered. 'I do not believe she has a master.'

'You know I meant you.'

The cat turned her head, noticing McCoy for the first time. She immediately rolled back up onto four legs, her tail fluffing up to a thick, bristling mass of fur. Her ears flattened, and she hissed, showing sharp fangs set in a pink and black mouth. The doctor tried to step backwards, forgetting he was crouching, and fell on his back.

'Spock!' he croaked almost soundlessly.

The Vulcan made a growling noise low in his throat, and the cat backed off. He held out his hand to help the doctor up, but the cat leapt between them again, growling and spitting, keeping low to the ground.

'Cikita!' Spock said firmly. '*_Si-antu_ McCoy. _Reuhig egj ar erllan_.*'

The cat got up, and stalked haughtily behind the Vulcan, its tail swishing angrily. It sat down, and began to wash its paw, pausing every now and then to give the doctor a highly offended glare.

'You may get up now, Doctor,' Spock said, amusement in his eyes. 'Cikita was merely protecting me. She will grow accustomed to you.'

'When she's sampled a pound or two of my flesh? There's nothing to laugh about,' McCoy said heatedly. 'She almost killed me.'

'I am not laughing, Doctor,' Spock said innocently. 'Cikita will become friends with you if you let her. She simply has yet to acquire a taste for human beings.'

'That is a very poor choice of words, Spock.'

'I apologise. I would not let her injure you. You must merely be firm.'

'She *_hates*_ me.'

'She is a cat. To communicate with a cat, you must act like a cat. Give her signals of submission, and of friendliness. Do not stare at her. Blink your eyes at her, then look away. She will take that as affection.'

'If you think I'm getting affectionate with any cat the size of a walrus, you're out of your logical Vulcan mind,' McCoy muttered. 'I'm a doctor, not a zookeeper. And how do I be firm with a cat that only speaks Vulcan?'

Spock shook his head, and knelt by the cat. He touched its head lightly with his fingertips, and closed his eyes.

'Spock?' McCoy asked.

The Vulcan opened his eyes again, and his lips curled in a snarl. Then he fought against the cat's angry, affronted thoughts, and regained his own mind.

'If you will permit me, Doctor?' he asked, reaching out the other hand.

'What? Mix my mind with that sabre-toothed tiger?'

'If you wish her to be amicable with you on our nine day journey, instead of having her leap to my defence each time you come near me,' Spock nodded. 'This is not a full meld. I am barely capable of a full meld with these drugs you keep me on. It is merely a swift way of communicating the desire that you and Cikita become friends.'

'In that case – go right ahead,' he said hurriedly. 'Just don't let me end up with the brain of a house cat. I've got no desire to start chasing mice, and little bits of paper tied to string.'

Spock motioned for McCoy to kneel down, and touched the doctor's forehead with his other hand. McCoy's eyes widened with surprise, when he felt thoughts of distrust, and intense loyalty to a certain Vulcan, coming through from Cikita's mind, filtered slightly by Spock to lessen the shock. The cat whisked its tail a few more times, and McCoy tried to push away the surface hostility between him and Spock, and think about being a friend. Then the animal pulled away from Spock's hand, rubbed its head briefly along McCoy's cheek, then walked through into another cabin with complete dignity.

'She understands you are a friend,' Spock confirmed. 'She is quite intelligent – she has a greater intelligence than Earth's dolphins. Tundra cats practically have a language of their own, individual names, and even a rudimentary historical capability. They pass on tales of the past to their kittens.'

'About how they maul humans to death?'

'She has left her scent on you, Doctor. You are now one of her elite circle. The only others she will let near me are my parents.'

'Hoorah,' he replied sourly. 'I'll tell you what.'

'Yes, Doctor?'

'You certainly brought her up as a Vulcan, Rigelian tundra cat or not. She's got the superior aloofness down to a tee.'

'Vulcans never consider themselves superior,' Spock said with an air of assured superiority. 'Doctor, I think you should settle yourself into your cabin, then familiarise yourself with the layout and controls of the ship. We shall be leaving presently.' He indicated the door the cat had gone through. 'That is your cabin.'

McCoy went to the door, and put his head around for a quick look. It was comfortably small, but decorated with the luxury an ambassador would expect on his private ship. There was a plush carpet, a desk with a small computer terminal, a mirror on the wall, a chest of drawers and a narrow wardrobe for clothes. His cases stood on the floor beside it. The bed was standard width, and looked soft and comfortable, covered in a thick quilt. McCoy took a step closer, and groaned. Covering the quilt was a long, black, velvet blanket, that looked alive. Cikita was stretched out over his bunk, purring quietly, giving the impression that she had been there a thousand years, and was about to spend that much time again asleep. The doctor sighed, resigned, and knelt down to tickle the cat's outstretched stomach.


	7. Chapter 7

7.

McCoy slipped through the door to _Alcyone_'s small bridge, and surveyed the surroundings critically. The lighting was slightly dimmer than normal, creating a relaxed feeling. All along the one curved wall was panel after panel of lights and buttons – most of them to do with science purposes, he noted. There were three chairs along the edge, fixed in a groove so they could slide to whichever console they were needed at.

Spock was sitting in a larger chair at the centre of the bridge, working fluently at a console, while still being able to gaze at the view of the slowly opening space doors on the viewscreen before him. The all-clear had been given for them to leave, and now the dark, tantalising view of space was gradually widening from a small split in the space station walls, to a panorama of the whole galaxy.

The doctor beamed when he saw the great black cat wound around Spock's feet on the floor, making a pretence of being asleep, but with one green eye slightly open, and watching McCoy intently.

'Well, Captain Spock,' he said with a grin. 'Glad to see that cat's not making a pest of itself in my room any more.'

'Oh, yes,' Spock replied lightly, not turning round. 'I neglected to inform you that that is where she usually sleeps. I hope you will not find it too inconvenient.'

'Stop acting so innocent,' the doctor muttered grumpily. He was glad to notice that Spock's mood seemed to be lightening the closer they got to Vulcan. 'Spock, you're not in uniform! I thought that blue shirt was your second skin. Well, Spock, I never thought I'd see the day.'

'This is a private vessel, Doctor. I cannot wear Starfleet uniform while in command of it.'

McCoy eyed the long black cloak that Spock was wearing over his clothes. 'Spock, when you wear your own clothes, why do you always have to wear long black dressing-gowns, or long white dressing-gowns? It makes you look like either the figure of death, or a hippy. You've got the ears for Satan, and that black monster round your feet. All you need right now is a three-pronged fork.'

Spock raised an eyebrow.

'Doctor, you should be careful what you say. You may find me standing over you in the night with a scythe.'

'And there's going to be millions of you on Vulcan,' McCoy sighed. 'Along with the heat, it's gonna be like living in Hades.' Then he looked at Spock more curiously. 'Are you going to visit your parents while you're on Vulcan?'

Spock shook his head briefly. 'No. They would want to know why I was there. Sarek would not be pleased to hear of my – failure, and I would not wish to cause my mother concern.' He changed the subject quickly. 'You will be pleased to know that you are second in command on this ship, Doctor.'

'Oh?' McCoy asked. 'Well, at least that puts me in command over the cat. And does that mean I get paid as much as you do on _Enterprise_, Spock?'

'It means you should sit down in that chair over there at the science console, and begin updating our star charts and weather reports from Starfleet communications. This will be a long trip for such a small ship, and we must be prepared at all times for unknown anomalies and changes in the weather.'

'Aye, aye, sir,' the doctor said, with a mock salute. He went over to the chair by the wide science console that would put the _Enterprise_ to shame, and sat down, trying to recall his basic training to work the equipment there.

******

McCoy stepped out of the _Alcyone_ onto the Vulcan soil – or the Vulcan concrete, at least – of what looked like a glorified, interstellar car park, half full of smaller shuttles and hover-cars. He took a deep breath, glad to taste non-recycled air – even if it was dry, thin and hot air – and glad to be free of the company of Spock's cat. He flexed his shoulders, trying to shake off the stale feeling of being in one place for too long. He had only been nine days in the small ship, but it was long enough.

Spock stepped down behind him, carrying all of the luggage.

'Are you taking the cat?' the doctor asked apprehensively, looking over his shoulder.

Cikita had plumped herself down possessively in the opening behind the hatch, gazing out at the Vulcan heat with cool green eyes. The animal's attitude had turned from hostile and distrustful, to sickeningly affectionate towards the doctor. His arm was practically raw from friendly licks of its enormous, sandpapery tongue.

Spock relieved his fears.

'Her home is the ship. She will be fine.'

He turned his head, scanning the surroundings, then began to walk forward.

'You're leaving the ship open, Spock?' the doctor asked. 'That's just asking to get it stolen. It's an expensive model.'

Spock looked back at the cat. 'There are not many thieves on Vulcan. And I doubt Cikita would let anyone on board. She will not venture into the Vulcan heat without me, and she will defend the ship. It is her home too.'

'Well, if she's as protective over that ship as she is over you, I guess no thieves'll get very far past the doorstep.'

'Precisely.' He nodded toward a corner of the car park. 'My friends are waiting over there, Doctor. They will take us to their house. It's not far.'

McCoy peered over in the direction Spock was looking, and saw two Vulcans standing sedately at the edge of the compound, instead of waving and calling, like a human couple would on seeing an old friend. Both of them were tall and slim, with dark brown hair and pale, dignified faces. The woman was as beautiful as all Vulcan women managed to make themselves, and looked intelligent and surprisingly friendly, in spite of her expressionless face. The man standing by her was as tall, and as proudly logical, touching fingers with her in the Vulcan manner. He stood very close to his consort, looking as protective as a human might. McCoy wondered if maybe Spock associated with slightly more human Vulcans, but decided not to offend him by asking.

'I hope you're not all going to gang up on me, me being the only human in the house,' he asked Spock quickly. 'I've noticed you've been mumbling more and more in Vulcan as we got nearer to the place.'

'When I am so near to Vulcan, it is easy to slip back into my first language, and into my normal traditions.'

He stopped speaking as he reached the young Vulcan couple, and nodded politely, holding up his hand in the Vulcan greeting.

'T'Laani. Skian. I hope you are in health.'

'We are both well,' the tall Vulcan man replied. 'Greetings, Spock.'

McCoy wondered if it were diplomacy, or merely chance, that meant he had not asked after Spock's health. He had not thought to ask if the couple knew about Spock's breakdown.

'This is McCoy.' Spock inclined his head towards the doctor. 'He is the head physician on the _Enterprise_. He chose to accompany me on my leave.'

'McCoy,' the woman nodded. 'Welcome to Vulcan. May you find your stay here peaceful.'

'Thank you.' The doctor tried to raise an imitation of the Vulcan salute, and failed miserably. 'But I won't have a peaceful stay if Spock has anything to do with it,' he laughed, then fell into embarrassed silence when all the Vulcans fixed him with stony, emotion free gazes.

'Is the child not with you?' Spock asked T'Laani, raising an eyebrow.

'No. She was sleeping when we left. It seemed best not to disturb her.'

'She's on her own?' McCoy asked, raising an eyebrow of his own. Might as well give them a dose of their own medicine.

'There is the alarm, Doctor,' Skian answered. 'We carry a small communicator on which we can monitor her, and we are only a few seconds away. But we very rarely leave her alone. Doctor, we could only set aside one room for you and the commander. Our house is not large, but I trust you will find the beds comfortable. We can raise a screen for privacy.'

The doctor glanced back at the _Alcyone_.

'I'm sure we could stay in the ship if you haven't enough room.'

*_Oh, God, I've botched another Vulcan custom_,* he realised immediately. The Vulcan couple had stepped back by a foot. Skian was looking at his wife as if he was not sure what to say, and every drop of emotion had completely drained from T'Laani's face. Spock was looking obviously embarrassed, as if he had taken a slob to a cocktail party, and the slob had just started asking loudly if he could get a large beer, and where the toilet was.

'But, of course, I'm sure your house will be just fine,' McCoy said quickly and soothingly.

Spock drew him aside, speaking very softly. 'On Vulcan, Doctor, it is considered extremely impolite to make a guest feel unwelcome, also to refuse a host's invitation.'

'I wasn't refusing,' he protested. 'I was just – Oh, okay,' he sighed. He turned back to the Vulcan couple. 'T'Laani, Skian, I apologise if I offended you. I'm not used to Vulcan customs or manners.'

'Quite understandable,' the woman told him. 'You may find that not all of our customs are as logical as our culture.'

'Just be tolerant of me,' he said ruefully. 'And I'll try to learn as I go along. Now, how do we get to your place?'

Skian gestured towards a small hexagonal building standing just outside the compound. McCoy's eyes fell on a sign written in Vulcan that was fixed over the door. He understood a little Vulcan, and his heart fell as he deciphered the word.

'By transporter, Doctor,' Skian confirmed. 'It is the most efficient way.'

'You've got a share in the transporter network?' he asked. He had thought that getting away from the _Enterprise_ would get him away from having his molecules scattered from here to the nearest star. 'They don't come cheap.'

'It is far safer than travelling by shuttle. On Vulcan, one does not need money to own a transporter share. One only needs to prove one is capable of running the device correctly and safely. Our house is only a few miles away, but most houses have a transporting base.'

Skian passed an identification card through the lock on the transporter chamber, and they went through the door. He punched co-ordinates into the machine like an expert, and McCoy stepped up onto the platform. To add to his unreasonable nervousness, this wasn't a Starfleet transporter, but a Vulcan one, of a different design and appearance to the ones he knew and – almost – trusted. Then the beam built, and began to dematerialise his body, and all his senses began to blank out for the short transition time.

******

The first thing Spock did after arriving at the house and putting their bags in their room, was to ask to see T'Si. His urgency was completely logical, he explained quite reasonably to McCoy, since the baby was the reason he had come here. T'Laani had nodded in apparent complete understanding, and ushered them through into a small room that had been fitted up as a nursery. There were none of the illogical human trappings of a nursery – no gushing pink decorations, McCoy was relived to see – but the room looked like a comfortable, and comforting, place for a small child to spend its first years of life. T'Si lay sleeping in a cot at the side of the room, covered by a light blanket, with a distinctly alien looking mobile strung above her.

'Well, she's grown,' the doctor grinned, almost as pleased as Spock evidently was to see the baby again.

At the sound of the voices T'Si opened her eyes, yawned, and blinked sleepily, apparently unfazed by the attention she was getting. McCoy bent over the baby, his smile growing.

'Hello, T'Si. Do you remember Uncle Leonard and Uncle Spock, then?'

The three adult Vulcans each raised an eyebrow, and McCoy could have sworn that the baby did too.

'Doctor, the child is pure Vulcan,' Spock pointed out. 'And you are pure human. You can in no way be related to her, and I was simply her guardian for a short time.'

McCoy rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, and shook his head, not bothering to respond.

'She has been eating less, and crying more than usual,' the woman said gravely. As if on cue, T'Si began to scream at the top of her voice. 'She has become extremely distressed, as you can see.'

Spock stepped forward, holding out his hands. 'If I may?'

'Of course,' Skian nodded. 'She may respond to you.'

Spock took the baby into his arms, and touched a finger to her hand. It immediately curled around his finger, and held it tightly.

'T'Si,' he said, looking directly at her. 'It is Spock. Do you remember me?'

After a moment, the baby looked up at his face, and she stared at him, her mouth still open in a suspended wail.

'She does remember me,' Spock said, sounding pleased. 'T'Laani, do I have your permission to touch the child's mind?'

A flicker of doubt came into the woman's eyes.

'We try to avoid melding with one so small. There has only been the recognition meld, so as to establish the fact in her mind that we were her guardians.'

'I have melded with her before,' Spock assured her. 'She knows my patterns.'

T'Laani glanced at Skian, then they both nodded in unison. Spock took a seat, and touched his fingers lightly to the child's face, hoping that the medication he was taking would not suppress his ability to the point that he could not contact her. As he opened his mind to her he felt her wordless thoughts swirling into his, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He was not sensing her with the acuteness that he was used to, but he could, at least, communicate.

'T'Si,' he said, so low only the baby could hear. '*_Qui va tach-no-dun? Qui va?_*'

The baby stopped crying, and her eyes closed.

'*_Khy'nu-il_,*' Spock said. '*_Ksi na-il?*_'

He closed his own eyes, letting himself sinking deeper into the meld – and after a time, another consciousness began to make itself felt alongside his and T'Si's. Even in the meld, his eyebrow rose. He struggled against the maddening depression of his telepathic ability, trying to work out precisely what the third presence meant, but it was like moving with his eyes half closed, groping at things just out of his reach.

Eventually, he moved his hand, and looked up, his face serious.

'She still remembers the death of her parents by the Pzyioman attack,' he said. 'Some of her disturbance is related to that fact. She may benefit from further melds to reassure her of the presence of those who care for her.'

'And what about what you really came for?' McCoy asked impatiently.

Spock looked up from the baby again, and nodded.

'Yes,' he said. 'I know something now of what has drawn me to Vulcan.'

'And that is?' McCoy urged him.

Spock's forehead furrowed.

'I know that it is Suaniak,' he said. 'He had to reach me, and T'Si is the only one on Vulcan at this moment that had any recent knowledge of my mind patterns. But she could not speak. She could only reach out to me, in desperation.'

'Suaniak?' McCoy repeated. 'Why? What does he want?'

Spock shook his head. 'I don't know. I have not the capability at the moment to either read that in T'Si's mind, or to reach out to Suaniak.'

'The medication?' McCoy asked in an undertone, and Spock nodded.

'I must speak to Suaniak. That is, apparently, why I am here.'

'Then all of this – all of your – '

He looked cautiously toward T'Laani and Skian, who were watching him with silent interest.

'They know of my breakdown, and of the suicide attempt,' Spock nodded. 'I told them everything before we came here.'

'Well, that makes it easier,' McCoy smiled. 'Spock, do you mean to say that everything – the depression, the need to come here, even trying to kill yourself – it's all Suaniak's doing?'

Spock hesitated. 'I cannot be absolutely certain. As I say, my telepathic ability is so dimmed by the medication I require that it is hard to clearly understand what is in T'Si's mind. But I felt Suaniak's presence as I touched her thoughts. To truly understand I must go back to his burial place and speak to him directly. I must go to Pnauh'Kmaghe.'

'Spock, last time you were there, he almost killed you,' McCoy warned him seriously. 'And we're supposed to be getting you away from stress.'

'Doctor,' Spock said in a resolute tone. 'Suaniak will not stop pressuring me until I go to him. You know that he cannot come to me.'

'It is hard, when you're dead,' McCoy said dryly. 'But he did almost kill you – twice, by all accounts, if we count what happened a few weeks ago. Why do you have any obligation to – '

'That is in the past,' Spock cut across him firmly, not trusting himself to examine that fact too deeply in case he found himself unable to forgive the ancient Vulcan. 'And he is my father, McCoy.'

'Sarek is - '

'Sarek is my blood father,' Spock said with a hint of impatience. 'Suaniak is my ancestral father. I carry his blood in my veins. He was a king of all Vulcan.'

'Spock, he almost killed you,' McCoy insisted. 'You're speaking about him like he's a god.'

'Perhaps, according to certain parameters, he is, Doctor,' Spock nodded. 'He has lived – or existed, I should say – in Pnauh'Kmaghe for millennia. He has prophecies of the future, he possesses great wisdom and great power. He has the qualities of some kind of god, if I understand the meaning of the word correctly.'

'Suaniak comes from the beginnings of all Vulcan civilisation,' T'Laani put in. 'He is Spock's father, he is Sarek's father. Spock must do as Suaniak commands him.'

'I thought Vulcans weren't emotional,' McCoy growled. 'And here you all are talking about some spook who hangs around in the ceiling of his tomb as if he's life itself.'

'When the _Enterprise_ was attacked by the hostile Pzyioman ship, and was near defeat, with many crewmembers dead, Suaniak used his power to save the _Enterprise_, and bring some of those crewmembers back to life,' Spock said, as if that decided the argument. 'My obligation to him is greater than my simple need to recover my own health. We will go to Pnauh'Kmaghe tomorrow, Doctor.'

'I can't wait,' McCoy said sarcastically, remembering how much trouble the great tomb had caused them last time. He took the sleeping baby out of Spock's arms, muttering, 'Let me take her for a bit. I may as well give the kid a free medical check up while I'm here.'

All of the Vulcans looked at him with raised eyebrows, as Spock said, 'All medical care is quite free on Vulcan, Doctor. It is the only logical solution for a civilised society.'


	8. Chapter 8

8.

When they arrived at the monument in the Vulcan desert, early in the morning, there was already a cluster of Vulcan scientists gathered around the tomb. The sun wasn't quite up, but the sky was beginning to blaze with the nascent sunrise, turning all the Vulcan figures into black silhouettes backed with fiery shades of red. The scene reminded McCoy of a picture of all the evil spirits in the underworld, lit by the fires of hell.

The scientists were holding out tricorders to the walls, obviously going through the tremendous task of recording and interpreting every hieroglyphic-like inscription that covered the vast, force-field protected surfaces.

Spock walked towards the wall with McCoy, looking like Satan himself with his long black cloak and Cikita slinking behind him, having insisted on coming with them after _Alcyone_ landed near the monument. She was swishing her tail at the heat, and glaring suspiciously at the other Vulcans.

The scientists parted at the sight of the Vulcan that had first gained entry to the structure, letting them both come straight up to the small communications centre that the mind of Suaniak spoke through. Spock had barely opened his mouth to speak when the hum of a transporter began and pulled Spock and McCoy inside the tomb, leaving Cikita prowling about the walls outside, growling ferociously at the blue sparks of force field that began if she moved too close.

'Of all the damn stupid, foolhardy things to do!' McCoy exploded as soon as he could speak. 'Transporting people without giving them any damn warning! You could kill someone!'

'However, no one was killed,' Spock said softly. 'Please try to speak with respect in the tomb of my ancestor.'

McCoy stopped in awe, looking around the coffin room for the first time. Spock had been here before, but McCoy had never actually been inside the great structure, and seen the solid gold coffins or jewelled ceiling.

'Perhaps I should have warned you first, Spock,' a voice echoed from the ceiling. 'But I am unused to my actions being questioned.'

'Suaniak.' Spock inclined his head briefly toward the floor. 'I have come.'

'Then you heard me calling.'

'Yes, I heard,' Spock said, tactfully mentioning no more than that.

McCoy had no such qualms.

'Calling?' he repeated heatedly. 'You didn't call him! You forced him, by plunging him so deep into depression that he had no choice but to obey! He would have killed himself if he hadn't come!'

'Suaniak, why did you call me in such a way?' Spock asked, motioning for the doctor to be quiet. 'What was so urgent and so secret that you could not tell the scientists outside, and have them call me?'

'It was imperative that I speak to you, Spock.'

'I concede that you wanted to speak to him,' McCoy agreed grumpily. 'But did you have to almost kill him to do it? Whatever happened to nice, safe, subspace radio? I thought you could talk to the Vulcans?'

'Spock, do you wish me to have this irritating human killed?' Suaniak asked abruptly. 'I could reduce him to basic elements.'

'This human is my Healer, and my friend, Suaniak,' Spock said quickly. 'I think he is by nature an irritant, but he must be tolerated. He does possess some intelligence, even if he does not often display it.'

_*Green blooded, pig headed, pointy-eared Vulcan! I'll give you an irritant!*_ McCoy thought silently, *_I've got a good mind to let him reduce me, just to show you!_* He didn't dare to say those words out loud, in case Suaniak took him seriously. He bounced on his toes to release the tension, hoping it would get on Spock's nerves.

'The doctor is right in one aspect,' Spock said. 'Your calling induced severe mental illness in me. Why could you not use subspace communications?'

'Because I would have to ask the scientists to link me up to it. Modern day Vulcan scientists are too inquisitive for their own good. I am not sure your total exclusion of emotions was a good thing.'

'We find it suits us, Suaniak,' Spock said diplomatically.

'If too many of them knew, they would be duty bound to report what I wish to do. This had to remain private, and so I could only contact you with my mind. I transmitted my thoughts to the child you had fostered, and she transmitted them to you. Her mind is strong, and unoccupied by other thoughts.'

'But you didn't have to drive him to suicide,' McCoy protested. 'Why not just tell him you wanted him?'

'I could not transmit words,' Suaniak said, beginning to sound impatient. 'I had no choice but to transmit emotions. I expected to be understood.'

'And those emotions just happened to reduce Spock to the point of a nervous breakdown?' McCoy asked tartly.

'I transmitted those emotions that I felt, that I believed would bring help to me. I felt I had no further purpose in my existence. I had existed for millennia, in contentment – and then Spock brought me access to the outside world. I realised that my mind was trapped, purposeless, in a dark prison. I was nothing but an information system for Vulcan science. I was no more to them that the writing on the walls of this tomb. There was no point to my existence.'

McCoy nodded soberly. Suaniak seemed to be describing precisely those emotions that had assailed Spock, and driven him to suicide.

'And that's why T'Si was miserable too?' the doctor asked curiously.

'Naturally,' Spock nodded. 'She picked up on Suaniak's feeling, and relayed it to me. I believe she also - ' Spock hesitated for a moment, before finishing, ' – missed me.'

He waited for McCoy to make a gibe, but the doctor simply nodded with unexpected understanding.

'But you have not yet told me why you wanted to speak to me, ancient father,' Spock said, looking up toward where the voice came from.

Suaniak's voice took on a conspiratorial tone.

'I wanted to speak to you because I must leave Vulcan, Spock, and you must aid me. There are others descended from me, in other places. Those you call the Romulans. I am their father too. I know of their history before they left, and I should know of their history on their new planet, and their future. I think perhaps I hold much more in common with their present than I do with yours.'

Spock stepped backwards, stumbling as if he had been dealt a physical blow. He leant back against one of the coffins. It was the first time McCoy had ever seen the Vulcan actually lost for words.

'Suaniak, the Vulcans,' he said at last. 'We – we need – You have much to teach the Vulcans. You cannot leave.'

'I am a free spirit, Spock,' Suaniak reproached him gently. 'I do not belong to the Vulcans. I am not owned. I also have much to teach the Romulans of their past – the past when they were joined with you.'

'Suaniak, if you go to Romulus, you may never have the chance to return,' Spock protested. 'We may not be able to return to help you. They may not be able to bring you back.'

'I will not leave Vulcan, Spock.'

'You said you must go to the Romulans,' Spock said in confusion. 'You said you would leave.'

'A poor choice of words. I am sorry. I am not a Vulcan any more, my son. In spirit I am Vulcan – ancient Vulcan. But I have no body. I am a Katra, contained in a place from where I may speak.'

'The Katra is the living spirit,' Spock explained to McCoy briefly. 'What you may call the soul. But Suaniak, how can you leave Vulcan, and yet stay here on Vulcan?'

'You cannot understand how it works, Spock. Even your mind is not capable of that. After centuries, I have evolved. Now I may – do not your human relations say, be in two places at once?'

'It is a human saying, that one *_cannot*_ be in two places at once,' Spock corrected him.

'Human history is not my priority. I make some errors. But I can be in two places at once. My essence can be here, on my homeworld, but it can also be with the Romulans. It is not a division, or duplication, or even separation. I cannot explain it. But you must take my essence to the Romulans, so they may also gain from my knowledge of their past.'

'They would think you a spy,' Spock said flatly. 'The Romulans are not our allies, Suaniak.'

'When I was alive, when I had a body, the Romulans were my people, Spock,' Suaniak said severely. 'They were Vulcans like you. I have no war, no quarrel, with them. I will not go to speak of the present, or the future, but of the past. I will learn of their present, but I will not use it against them. The government need not know I am there. There are those that have heard of my existence in the Romulan Empire - those that are my sons and daughters, just as you are. Ones that share your blood, Spock. I will teach them. They will help me. But you must take me there. I know that you will risk your life doing this, but the Romulans have a right to know of their past, just as you do.'

'Spock,' McCoy began. Suaniak's words were beginning to scare him – especially since Spock seemed to be listening to them with an element of acceptance. 'Suaniak, what about Spock's condition? He can't go off across the galaxy into hostile territory. He's ill.'

'No,' Suaniak told him. 'No, child. He is not ill. That was simply my thoughts influencing his. Now I may speak directly, he will not feel my emotions.'

'Great.' McCoy put his hands on his hips. 'Then we can go back to the _Enterprise_, Spock, because I, for one, am not going to stroll over into the Romulan Empire, telling them we bring some great Vulcan god with us, and stand around calmly while they capture us and torture us to death for espionage. I organised this leave. I can get it pulled back, once your condition is stable.'

'And Suaniak will stay unfulfilled,' Spock reminded him. 'And he will reach out to me yet again, filling my mind with despair and loss, driving me to insanity and suicide – maybe, this time, a fatal attempt. You do not have to come, Doctor, but I will. And you cannot revoke my leave, because it was created to help me regain my mind, and I am not cured until I have fulfilled Suaniak's wishes.'

'You argue good logic, Spock,' McCoy grumbled. 'But I'm damned if you're going on your own. You need someone to take care of you when you're run through with a Romulan *_uhbig*_, whatever that is.'

'It is a cooking utensil rather like a spoon,' Spock said with something like smugness. 'And thank you, Doctor. Suaniak, there will be much to plan. How will you speak to me?'

'Through your ship's communications panel.'

He was silent for a space, during which Spock blinked suddenly, and shook his head.

'Spock, your mind is deadened,' Suaniak said with a note of shock in his voice. 'What is wrong with you?'

'He's taking anti-depressants, for God's sake,' McCoy said irritably. 'To repair the damage that _*you_* did to him. It suppresses his telepathic ability.'

'I see,' Suaniak said slowly. 'Spock, you would do well not to take such drugs.'

Spock glanced at McCoy, and then said with a trust that touched the doctor, 'I will take them as long as McCoy deems it necessary. I can feel your thoughts, Suaniak. I have not the quickness that I am used to, but your mind is strong enough to reach me.'

'Very well,' Suaniak said doubtfully. There was silence again, and then he said, 'There. Do you have the understanding of how to modify your ship's communications to receive my voice?'

'I do, Suaniak,' Spock nodded.

'Good. Cause it to happen as soon as you can. The _Alcyone_ is a fine ship, my son.'

'Thank you, Suaniak.'

'Now – I must return you,' Suaniak said without further preamble. 'The feline creature outside is becoming distressed at your absence.'

McCoy abruptly found himself staring at the red Vulcan sky, his feet firmly on hot sand, with Spock beside him, and the sun fully up now.

'Goddammit, he didn't even listen!' McCoy exclaimed. 'He agrees he should warn us first, then he goes and does it again, completely without warning. What does he think I am? A damn puppet? Spreading my molecules halfway through the galaxy every time he damn well pleases, without even asking. Why doesn't he just take up a lease on my atoms? Spock, where in hell are we?' he asked suddenly, searching for the bulk of Pnauh'Kmaghe.

They should have been standing in the monument's shadow. Spock put a hand on his arm, and turned him around. McCoy realised he had been standing looking into the Vulcan desert, with his back to the house they were staying in. _Alcyone_ stood just beside the house, with Cikita lying melted in the doorway, apparently unconcerned by the abrupt transportation. The sun blazed directly overhead, making him dizzy with its intensity.

'Midday,' he realised. 'Spock, how long were we in there for?'

Spock's eyebrow rose in an amused manner. 'Approximately half a day,' he said, with a sense of stating the obvious. 'Time is – difficult – to judge when one is communing with Suaniak.'

'You don't say! Spock, just how far can this Suaniak reach?' he asked. 'This is miles away from where we were!'

'His reach is obviously great, Doctor,' Spock agreed. 'I don't know how far. I have no knowledge of his strength being tested.'

'He must have limits. He couldn't get you off the _Enterprise_.'

'That is true, Doctor,' Spock said, but he looked very much as if he was thinking of matters other than Suaniak's ability to transport matter. 'I am going inside the ship. I have much to plan. Would you tell T'Laani and Skian that I will not be present at lunch?'

He stepped over Cikita and into the ship. McCoy followed him swiftly glad to get into the shade, and the cat jumped up and followed, purring and rubbing herself around McCoy's legs.

'Get out of the way, cat,' he muttered. 'I'll tell them I'll bring your lunch out to you, Spock,' he said firmly. 'I'm not having you stop eating again.'

'Very well.' Spock disappeared through a door, indicating he wanted to be left alone to work.

'Come on, Cikita,' McCoy said with a shrug. 'I can see we're not wanted here. We may as well go back in the house.'

He jumped down out of the hatch, but Cikita took up a sentry position in the doorway, refusing to move while Spock was still in the ship. McCoy sighed. Suaniak had all but ignored him, Spock was ignoring him. Even the cat had better things to do. The doctor went into the house, hoping that at least T'Si wouldn't ignore him.

*******

Spock stepped through into the bridge, deep in contemplation. He was already so deep in thought that he didn't notice that he had shut the door on McCoy. He went straight to one of the seats at the edge of the bridge, and sat down in it, making himself comfortable for a night of work. He let his eyes settle on the irregular rows of small, multicoloured lights on the dark consoles, letting the gentle rhythmic flashing soothe him into a state of semi-meditation. He had much to think about before he even began feeding formulae, co-ordinates, and other data into the softly bleeping computers before him. Slowly he let his eyes close, and shut off the outside noises and lights, and irrelevant, superfluous thoughts.

One of the first problems they would encounter was their course across Federation space and into Romulan territory. It had to be one that was not too conspicuous - but also not obviously suspicious. To take the ship through sensor-blind areas and hazard zones was to invite the nearest authorised ship – probably the _Enterprise_ - to pull them back with a tractor beam. The course should be simple to within a certain distance of the Neutral Zone, explained by a simple tour of the galaxy. From then on, it got harder. Then they would have to pointedly avoid contact with any Romulan patrol ships, or Federation patrol ships, or any of the automatic sensor buoys scattered about the Neutral Zone as alarm systems. But it was all simply a question of finding the right route. With careful consideration and planning the task should be fairly simple for a Vulcan mind to overcome. The first task would be to let the computer perform the tedious task of sketching out a preliminary route.

Spock opened his eyes again, and unfolded his arms.

'Computer.'

'Working.'

'Plot best course from here to Romulan Neutral Zone, and calculate time taken at cruise speed of Warp 3, avoiding sensor blind and hazard areas, taking into account positions of Starfleet vessels stationed near neutral zone. Avoidance is necessary. Also, estimate rations needed for full complement of passengers on such a journey.'

'Calculating. Estimate answer in point three five hours.'

'Very well.'

Spock rose and fetched his lyre from his cabin. He sat back in his seat, touching the strings gently, playing a random melody from his own mind. He began to consider how to conceal the ship from scanners and detectors once inside Romulan territory. Maybe Suaniak, with his enormous powers, could help with that. Then there was how to transport Suaniak, how to conceal a human among Romulans... He closed his eyes again and carried on thinking, aided by the soft music from his own lyre.

******

McCoy crossed from the house to Spock's ship while the cool breeze of the Vulcan dawn was just beginning to tease across the sand. The sky was vaguely red in the east, promising that the sun would rise soon. Of all his short time spent on Vulcan McCoy thought he would always name dawn as his favourite, when the heat had not yet begun to attack and the world was still delicate and new.

He had spent a restless night, drifting in and out of sleep, occasionally slipping outside to check that Spock was all right, and finding him still absorbed in work in a way he had not seen in a long time. Ordinarily he would have ordered his patient to take rest, but this behaviour was so refreshingly Spockian that he was willing, if not totally happy, to let it pass in silence. Cikita had been on guard in the ship's doorway every time he had been out, and she was still there now, curled and sleeping on the floor. McCoy stepped over her and went onto the small bridge.

As the door to the bridge opened silently, he was just in time to see Spock's head slip onto his folded arms, and the Vulcan's breathing settle to a slow, regular rise and fall. His lunch had been eaten, but his dinner still sat on one of the nearby chairs – a plate of Vulcan food, a cup of the Vulcan equivalent of tea, and a small dessert, all cold and untouched. Spock's lyre leant against a console, obviously having been used to aid the thinking process.

McCoy watched the Vulcan for a few seconds, considering whether to try carrying Spock to his bunk on the ship. He decided against it, not wanting to risk waking the Vulcan. He went into Spock's cabin to get a blanket, and draped it over and around the sleeping Vulcan, then sat down in a chair and waited.

******

Three hours later, the Vulcan began to stir. McCoy, sensing the movement, jerked awake. The cat was in here too now, preferring to sleep in the bridge, with company. He picked Spock's tray off the chair and took it to the closest food outlet to heat it up. Then he went back to Spock. He grinned as he heard the Vulcan muttering in his sleep.

'Two hundred parsecs ... Romulus ... casket mmmph... special moorings... No, Cikita!'

The last was an almost annoyed sounding reprimand. The black cat opened one eye, flicked her tail, then went back to sleep. McCoy noticed fresh tooth marks in the edge of one of the consoles, and remembered the cat's fondness for chewing things. He took the tray out of the food outlet, then went over to Spock and touched his shoulder.

'Spock.'

The Vulcan woke instantly, and lifted his head off his arms with a jerk.

'Dr McCoy! I must have – lost concentration for a moment.' Then he noticed the blanket around his shoulders, and knew the bluff had failed. 'How long have I been asleep?'

'Just a few hours. I should make sure you go to your cabin and sleep properly.'

'I should not have allowed myself to drop off. You should have woken me when you first came in.'

'Most people fall asleep because they need it. The body needs rest, and it takes it. You're no exception.' He put the tray into Spock's hands. 'Eat this.'

'Doctor, I do not have time,' Spock said impatiently.

'Yes, you do,' McCoy replied firmly, 'because I'm gonna stand right here and annoy you until you do eat it, and you won't have a chance of working.'

'Very well.'

Spock poked a fork into the meal on the plate, pushing the food around, as if investigating it for hidden ingredients.

'Don't you trust me, Spock?' the doctor asked.

'I would not put it past you to slip something into my food, so as to make me sleep,' he said with narrowed eyes, looking directly at the doctor.

Finally, satisfied that it was simple Vulcan food, he began to eat.

'Why didn't you work in the house, Spock?' McCoy asked him.

'Firstly, because I needed the computers, Second, because most humans I know demand at least eight hours of undisturbed sleep each night, and you, Doctor, are particularly vulnerable to this weakness. I did not relish the idea of attempting to work while you express your opinion on the hours I keep, nor the prospect of dealing with the mood you would be in the next morning.'

'Not to mention the fact that I would have made you go to bed at a sensible time, Mr Spock.'

'Yes,' he nodded. 'That was a factor in my decision.'

'You're recovering from a collapse, Spock,' McCoy reminded him in exasperation. 'Part of the stress you were under was brought on from exhaustion. You can't go straight back to staying up all night, and if you disobey my medical orders I can have you packed off to a hospital until you're fully recovered.'

'Time is of the essence. We must leave for Romulus soon, with Suaniak. I have been plotting our course, and the time factor involved.'

'And what did you work out?'

'We may discuss courses and dates later,' Spock said briskly. 'Our largest problem once we get there is that of concealing a Vulcan and a human in the Romulan Empire. You could pass as a Romulan with certain alterations to your physical appearance, to your skin colour. It would not fool a medical scanner, but to the eye, you would seem Romulan. You certainly have the emotional capacity to pass as one.'

'Hmm,' McCoy said, not rising to the bait.

'I have also constructed a small device which, when carried on your person, will make medical scanners perceive you as a normal Romulan, with normal Romulan physiology. That took most of the night to construct.'

He put a small, black, pebble sized disc in McCoy's hand.

'This?' he asked incredulously. 'This tiny piece of gadgetry? Took all night?'

'It is small, Doctor, but I had to design the object, and construct it out of micro-electronics. That is not a simple task. There is an adhesive surface, Doctor, whereby you may attach it to a discreet part of your skin – the inner thigh for instance, or under the arm – if you were forced to remove your clothes for examination. You may even swallow it, if necessary, and it will attach itself to the lining of your stomach.'

'Or choke me on the way down.'

'I do not believe it will choke you.'

'It looks pretty good,' McCoy admitted. He ran his ever-present medical scanner over it, and the instrument emitted a shrill whine. 'Yes. That's its normal reaction when I haven't set it for Vulcans,' he nodded. He fiddled with the scanner, then used it again, looking at the results displayed on his tricorder screen. 'Flawless, Spock! The poor scanner's absolutely convinced I'm a green-blooded Vulcan.'

'Then let us hope Romulan scanners are not more efficient than ours.'

'They won't be more efficient than my scanners, Spock. But you should take out a patent on that thing. You'd make millions.'

'I will consider it,' he nodded. 'Starfleet would undoubtedly benefit from the device.'

'So would you, with the royalties - unless you considered kindly donating the technology.'

Spock cocked his head disapprovingly at the doctor.

'I am sure Starfleet has the money to buy it, Doctor. It would be illogical to deny myself the rewards for my work.'

'It's great - as long as the Klingons never got hold of it.'

'Such devices never stay secret for long, Doctor. That is a fact of life. But it will give the upper hand as long as it remains a Starfleet exclusive. Now,' he said, folding his arms across his chest and looking critically at McCoy. 'Your appearance, Doctor. My device cannot help that. The eyebrows would be simple. A mere removal of part of the eyebrow, and the application of false hair to alter the line. But your ears – those are the problem. You will stand out in a crowd with ears such as yours. Of course, we could put you in a hat,' he suggested, tilting his head to the side as he considered the idea.

'You're enjoying this, aren't you?' McCoy asked him cantankerously. 'After all the times we've had to put you in woolly hats, and hide those devil's points from sight, you're just waiting to get your revenge.'

'Revenge is pointless, Doctor. I'm attempting to tackle your problem.'

He looked to McCoy's left and right slowly, his eyes fixed on the ears, as if measuring them up.

'They could be altered by surgical procedures,' he suggested. 'But unfortunately, you are the surgeon, not I. I cannot operate on you.'

'I wouldn't let you get anywhere near my ears with a scalpel,' McCoy said, putting his hands over the sides of his head in mock defence.

Spock let a subtle smile creep onto his face.

'You could pass yourself off as malformed, Doctor. An unfortunate malformation in the womb, resulting in misshapen ears. There are such incidents.'

McCoy pointedly ignored the invitation to argue directly for once, and tried something more subtle.

'Spock, I'm glad to see you're cheering up,' he said. 'At least you seem to be getting your sense of humour back.'

Spock looked up sharply. 'Oh, I do apologise, Doctor. I shall endeavour to tighten my restraint in future.'

'You do that,' he muttered back grumpily. 'What about *_your*_ disguise, then? You could grow a beard.'

'This is not a children's game of spies and detectives, Doctor,' Spock said witheringly. 'A beard would only serve to make me more conspicuous. You very rarely see a Vulcan with facial hair.'

'You're supposed to be a Romulan,' McCoy pointed out.

'Nor have I yet seen a Romulan with the bad taste to grow a beard. I look like a normal Vulcanoid. There is no need for any disguise on my part.'

'I've thought about growing a beard,' McCoy said idly.

Spock shuddered. 'Please, Doctor. Take my sincere advice. Do not even consider the possibility.'

'I thought it was a pretty good idea myself,' McCoy said, enjoying seeing Spock raise an apprehensive eyebrow. He stroked his chin gently, almost unconsciously, playing with an imaginary beard. 'Moustache too,' he added. 'A long one.'

Spock realised McCoy was having him on.

'Doctor, please be serious,' he said stiffly.

'Okay. I'll be as serious as you want,' he said, straightening up in his chair. 'Going into Romulan territory is pretty serious. What about your emotions?'

Spock raised an eyebrow, and cocked his head a little to one side.

'My emotions?'

'Romulans are a little more emotional than Vulcans, in case you'd forgotten. And you're not too hot on being emotional.'

'I am sure I can act,' Spock said uncomfortably. 'Now, I can easily falsify travel permits and identification documents. I know where we can get across the neutral zone, avoiding automatic sensor buoys, and Federation and Romulan ships. I know how we can approach the Romulan planet without detection.'

'Did anyone ever tell you that you have the makings of a criminal mastermind, Spock?' McCoy asked with a degree of admiration.

'Quite often,' Spock replied smoothly. 'Were I not in the Federation, I'm sure I could earn plenty of money by dubious undertakings. It helps to be able to feel people's thoughts. Of course, I would not become a criminal.'

'You already are. Have you heard yourself?' he asked.

Vulcans disturbed him sometimes. He had the feeling that they did not adhere to the law because it was the law, but because it was logical, and if it did become logical to steal or kill or break a million other laws, they would do so without qualm.

'I can hear myself speaking,' Spock said pedantically. 'Doctor, what time was it when you came in?'

'About dawn. It's morning now, and you're going to bed,' McCoy said firmly.

'Then the reply would have come through,' Spock said, ignoring the doctor.

'What reply?' McCoy asked, temporarily giving up and sitting down. Spock slid his chair rapidly along its rail by pushing off with his feet, and grabbed at the communications console to stop himself when he reached it. He pressed a playback button, and a light flashed.

'Yes. There is an answer,' Spock nodded.

'What answer?' McCoy insisted.

The console whirred, and a flat, female voice came out of the speakers. McCoy looked up at a viewscreen, and saw the image of a Vulcan woman displayed there.

'Communication to Commander Spock from Vulcan Central Control. Permission granted to transport Suaniak to specified hostile planet. Mission is top secret, and without aid from Federation or Vulcan authorities. Vulcan Central out.'

'We are now legal, Doctor,' Spock said with satisfaction. 'We now have my world's permission to take Suaniak to Romulus, provided we do not implicate the Federation or the Vulcan officials by asking them to provide us with help.'

'You mean it's yes, but don't get us involved,' McCoy said cynically. 'Well, that's nice of them.'

'It is better than the risk of being held for charges of espionage both on Romulus and in the Federation, Doctor. We may be able to ask for help if we need it if we find ourselves in trouble in Federation territory, or very near the neutral zone. If I understand Federation law correctly, a Starfleet ship is obliged to aid a ship in trouble, be it Starfleet, Federation, or alien. Now we have permission to attempt to enter Romulan territory. The Romulans may capture us, but we will not be punished by the Federation.'

'You took one hell of a big risk asking them, though,' McCoy pointed out. 'What if they hadn't seen it your way? Then you could never go.'

'I knew they would see the logic of Suaniak's request,' Spock said simply.

'That's great. And *_now* _you can sleep,' the doctor told him in a voice that wouldn't tolerate any arguments.

Spock yielded gracefully, and let the doctor take him into the house of his friends for a long rest.

'And I'm gonna sit right here by your bed until I think you should wake up, to make sure you don't get up and start working again,' McCoy threatened, seating himself firmly on his own bed. Spock raised an eyebrow at him, then rested back on the pillows, closing his eyes. He had no doubt that McCoy was speaking the absolute truth.


	9. Chapter 9

9.

Scott came out of the turbolift onto the bridge of the _Enterprise_, looking for the captain. Kirk was sitting in his big chair in the centre, his chin resting on one hand, staring at, and straight through the stars on the viewscreen before him. The engineer went lightly down the steps to Kirk's chair, and held out the fuel consumption report to him.

'Begging your pardon, Captain, but can ye sign this, sir?'

The captain jumped, and tightened his hand around the report pad, taking it from Scotty's grasp.

'Thanks, Spock – I mean, Scotty,' Kirk corrected himself quickly. He read the report briefly, then signed at the bottom. 'I'm sorry. I was a million miles away.'

'They've only been gone a week, sir,' Scott reminded him. 'It's not that long.'

'I know,' he said quietly. 'I'm just worried about Spock at the moment. And – well – it seems empty without them here, fighting behind my chair, or standing by my side. Chekov's excellent at the science station – but he's not Spock. I know it's sometimes annoying having him give you time to the exact millisecond, measurements to the last millimetre, but it's – reassuring. And I trust the doctors in sickbay, but I'd rather have McCoy down there treating my crew.'

'Aye. Well, they'll be back soon, Captain, when Mr Spock's better,' the engineer said comfortingly.

'Will they, Scotty?' he asked, looking up at him. 'I've just got a bad feeling that they're going to get up to something and need our help. When Spock and Bones go off in a ship I didn't even know about until I read Spock's licence for it, even to a place like Vulcan, I'm sure they'll get into some kind of trouble – intentional or not.' He paused, then added with a guilty look on his face, 'That's why I slipped a location bug into Spock's suitcase.'

'A location bug?' Scott echoed. 'Are ye really that worried? Where are they, sir?'

Kirk gave a shrug, and looked even more guilty. 'On Vulcan, like they said they'd be, at the address of the couple who adopted baby T'Si. They went straight there, without any diversions or trouble. They've stayed there a few days – except for one trip out to the Vulcan desert – to Pnauh'Kmaghe – but it's natural that Spock would want to go over there and see how it's going – how much they've found out from Suaniak about his world's history.'

'Won't Mr Spock be annoyed when he finds it, sir?' Scott asked in a low voice.

'Don't let him hear you insult him like that,' Kirk grinned. 'Spock doesn't get annoyed. And he won't find it. I hid it pretty well.'

'If all they've been doing is a wee tour of Vulcan, it looks like you've got nothing to worry about, sir,' Scott said with a reassuring smile.

'I hope so, Scotty,' Kirk replied, shaking his head. 'I hope so.'

******

McCoy opened his eyes, and blinked slowly, adjusting them to the light. He rolled over, stretched lazily, and pushed the covers down off his body – then he sat bolt upright, rubbing his eyes with his fists. He looked across to Spock's bed. It was empty, neatly made, as if it had never been slept in. He realised Spock had repaid his favour of that morning, by arranging McCoy's head on the pillow, and folding the covers over him when he fell asleep on his bed, deliberately making him as comfortable as possible so he wouldn't wake up.

'Why in hell did I let myself fall asleep?' he fumed quietly. 'It wasn't as if *_I*_ was up all night.'

McCoy tidied his sleep-rumpled hair and creased clothes in front of the mirror, then stormed through into the Vulcan sitting room, mustering all his anger to vent on Spock. When he came into the room, there was only T'Laani there, sitting on a low settee, feeding T'Si. She looked up at his noisy entry, taking care to keep the baby quiet.

'Where is he?' the doctor demanded.

'You mean Spock?' the woman asked with a raised eyebrow.

'You know damn well I mean Spock. I'm beginning to feel as if I should handcuff him to me, and me to a stout tree.'

'That seems an illogical and needless thing to do – not to mention a most undignified solution. He has gone to meet a guest,' she said softly. 'He called her through communications, and she is transporting in now.'

'She? Who she? What she?'

'I do not know her name. He did not privilege me with that information. He is only outside, at our transporter pad,' she said, nodding towards the door with an air of great tolerance.

'How long has he been up? How long was he asleep?'

The woman blinked. 'Three point five three hours. And for the first enquiry - fifteen point five nine minutes.'

As she finished her sentence the tall Vulcan First Officer swept into the room, followed by a young woman. McCoy's eyebrows shot up in surprise. The girl that had glided into the room after Spock had naturally coppery hair, and very green eyes. She wore a slim, flowing dress that reached down to her ankles. She looked only about twenty years old, but was as tall as Spock, with a face as serious and intent.

'Doctor, this is my niece,' Spock said, nodding towards the girl. 'To be quite precise, she is the daughter of my cousin, but in the Vulcan language we would use the same word as that for niece.'

'T'Syan's daughter?' McCoy asked. 'I thought T'Syan's children were – well – I thought she lost her family in the Pzyioman attack. I thought they were young.'

Spock looked exasperated.

'She is not the daughter of T'Syan. I have more than one cousin.'

'I see. Well,' he said with a friendly smile. 'Good morning, Spock's niece.'

He held out his hand to her, but she ignored it, shrinking from skin contact as any Vulcan would. She merely nodded her head once, then looked up again.

'Thank you, Dr McCoy,' she said in a voice that was monotone, but surprisingly soft and gentle. 'No doubt you are curious about my presence here?'

Then McCoy realised he had seen this girl before. She was one of the poker-faced scientists that were hovering about Pnauh'Kmaghe. She had been dressed differently then, with her hair pulled back and held on her head with a gracefully wound headscarf, and he had hardly seen her face for more than a glance.

'I was wondering,' he said.

'I do not think two people should be the total crew of the ship all the way to the Romulan Empire,' Spock explained. 'My niece will assist.'

'Spock, you keep calling her that,' McCoy protested. He looked toward the woman with a charming smile. 'Such an attractive young lady should have a name.'

'You appear to be experiencing a typically human surge of hormonal activity at my appearance, Dr McCoy,' the girl said quietly. 'I realise it is a natural function of your body, but I have chosen a male to be my consort.'

'Of course. I'm sorry,' he said, his cheeks reddening. 'I know it's like that with all Vulcans. But you do have a name?'

'Of course,' the girl nodded. 'My name is Alison, Doctor.'

'Alison?' McCoy repeated, his eyes widening.

'I believe that is what I said. Alison Grayson.'

Realisation swept over him, She had the same surname as Spock's human mother. He looked again at the girl's face, closer this time. Her expression was the same deadpan one that every Vulcan wore. She wore make-up in the Vulcan fashion, but her copper hair tumbled down over her shoulders, hiding her ears, and her eyebrows were rounded, like a human's, under the make-up which made them appear upswept. Add that to the hair colour, and green eyes instead of deep brown…

'You're human!' he exclaimed.

'Did you not realise?' she asked calmly.

The doctor turned on Spock. 'Spock, you said she was your niece.'

'I do have human relatives, Doctor,' Spock said distantly, as if half wishing he hadn't.

He turned back to the woman, looking honestly bewildered. 'But – you seem so – '

'Vulcan?' The girl gave a slight smile. 'I've lived on the planet all my life, Doctor. It does tend to rub off on you. I have learnt in Vulcan schools since I was born. A human education, of course, but still taught by Vulcan teachers. And to walk around smiling and laughing on Vulcan is frowned upon in the same way that nudity is frowned upon on Earth. I am pledged to marry a Vulcan man, I have been brought up to live a Vulcan life.'

'You poor girl,' McCoy said with earnest sympathy.

'It is what I'm used to, Doctor,' she said serenely. 'I'm more Vulcan than I am human. Of course, I don't have the telepathic ability, or the brilliant mind, but I do have an intelligence above average. I've learnt the language since birth, and adhere to the customs of Vulcan, even as far as the marriage ceremony and raising of Vulcan children. Earth is merely the place where my genes originated. I have never been there.'

'Wouldn't you like to?' he asked curiously. 'It's a beautiful planet. One of the best.'

'I have heard that it is very - different - to Vulcan,' she said carefully. 'I may visit one day, but it is pointless to speculate over the future.'

'She's your niece, all right,' the doctor muttered to Spock. 'Vulcan to the core. Her consort's a lucky man.'

'Thank you for the compliment,' Alison said, bowing her head slightly. 'If you will excuse me, I think I will go to the ship, Spock, and look over your facilities and equipment there.'

Spock nodded his permission. 'Yes, it's best you familiarise yourself with the equipment before we leave.'

She turned away from them and walked gracefully through the door. The ripples of movement in her dress made the material shimmer and seem to change colour as she stepped from under the artificial light to the light of Vulcan's huge red sun.

******

McCoy and Cikita watched from one of the console seats as Spock and Alison carefully manoeuvred a large, heavy looking casket into position on the bridge of the _Alcyone_. The casket was roughly a metre square, its shape and appearance suggesting it was made of some kind of crystal. The shining surfaces and deep cracks inside glowed and reflected faint purple light, almost as if the object was alive.

A space had been cleared in the centre of the floor before the captain's chair. Now a socket-like device that the Vulcan and Alison had constructed was fixed firmly to the floor panels, with multi-coloured wires leading to and from it at all angles, connecting it with the consoles. McCoy had no idea what any of them were for, and didn't feel like asking, and having to bear one of Spock's explanations. Spock and his niece were now engrossed in trying to fit the crystal into the snug socket. McCoy had offered to help with the carrying, but had been turned down with a polite, 'No thank you.'

'Just because he thinks I'm a weak human who can't be trusted with such delicate machinery,' he muttered to the cat.

Cikita narrowed her green eyes, and they both glared at the Vulcan – McCoy because he liked to see how much he could get on Spock's nerves without actually saying anything, and Cikita because she wasn't allowed to help with the moving.

'I beg your pardon, Doctor?' Spock asked, resting the crystal on the edge of the command chair, and taking a moment to look up at the doctor.

'I said, what special skill have you got that makes you so much better than me at moving that hunk of machinery about?'

'It is large and difficult to get a grasp on,' Spock told him. 'And it is not machinery. There are no mechanics involved. It is a crystal.'

'What about that plug thing?'

'That involves electronics, not mechanics,' Spock said patiently. 'It requires much delicacy to get the crystal into its correct position, which is why Alison is helping me. We must not crack it.'

'Looks cracked already, to me,' McCoy said, conscious of the double meaning of his statement.

'Those are natural fissures that formed when the crystal evolved,' Spock explained. 'They are part of its design.'

'You said it evolved. How can something that evolved be designed?' he argued irritatingly.

Spock decided to put the crystal down, so he could answer all of McCoy's questions in one go. He let it down slowly onto the floor beside the socket, and stood straight.

'Doctor, this crystal is the casket that will hold Suaniak's consciousness. For it to do so, it must possess certain elements, certain peculiarities.'

'It's peculiar all right,' he muttered.

'Suaniak grew the crystal from the original ones in Pnauh'Kmaghe,' Spock continued, ignoring McCoy's comment. 'This is his power source for the journey.'

'Like dilithium crystals?'

'Not like dilithium crystals, but like dilithium crystals are to the _Enterprise_, and to this ship. Suaniak will also live in it, as Sargon of Arret did, in his own receptacle. I am sure you remember that.'

'Oh, that. I'd forgotten,' McCoy said sarcastically, looking up toward the ceiling. 'Of *_course*_ I remember. D'you think I'd forget Henoch trying to steal your body and take over the _Enterprise_? He almost made me commit suicide with my own hypo-spray.'

'Yes,' Spock nodded. 'As I recall, I saved your life.'

'Christine Chapel saved my life,' McCoy corrected him tersely. 'She took the hypo. You were just along for the ride in her brain, poor child. It's bad enough living with you, without having you invading people's minds. I'm surprised she didn't need counselling.'

'As I recall, she quite enjoyed it,' Spock said, his eyes on the crystal at his feet. 'It was I who found co-existing with such torrents of irrational emotion and total illogic difficult.'

'Spock,' Alison broke in apologetically. 'We must put the crystal in place. We have a limited time before Suaniak's reserve power fails.'

'You mean he's in that thing already?' McCoy asked.

'He transferred to it this morning,' she nodded.

She lifted the crystal up with Spock's help, and they held it balanced over the irregularly shaped socket, lining it up with great care. Then they lowered it down, and Alison carefully guided it into the socket, adjusting it until it fit snugly. Spock looked it over, nodded in apparent satisfaction, and hit a switch on the science console. Immediately, the light in the crystal began to glow brighter, pulsing slowly with new energy.

'I take it the transmission was successful.' Suaniak's voice came from somewhere inside the crystal.

'It was successful, father,' Spock nodded.

'Congratulations, my son, and human daughter.'

'Don't I get any credit?' McCoy asked plaintively from the back of the bridge.

'You didn't do anything,' Spock reminded him.

'Only because you wouldn't let me,' he complained. 'And I kept the cat from wrapping itself round your legs and tripping you up while you did it. If I'm going to risk my life on this mission, I ought to at least get some of the credit.'

Then he remembered Suaniak asking Spock if he could reduce him to power, and fell into silence.

'The probability of you getting killed, Doctor, is – ' Spock began.

'Don't,' McCoy said firmly. 'I don't want to know how likely it is you'll have to send my charred remains home in a jar. I'd just like some gratitude.'

'Thank you, McCoy,' the deep voice intoned from the crystal.

Suaniak's acknowledgement surprised him. It was the first time that the ancient Vulcan had spoken to him with some respect, using his name.

'I am sure you are destined to play a great part in this mission,' he continued.

'At least someone appreciates that,' he said in a hurt tone. 'So.' He squared his hands on his hips and faced the Vulcan. 'When are we going, Spock?'

'Tomorrow, Doctor, at 0400 hours.'

McCoy's eyes widened. 'Four o'clock in the morning? Good God, Spock, can't you chose some reasonable time to start off? If we're going to probably get killed, we may as well have a last lie-in before it happens.'

'It is the only time that the Vulcan authorities will let us leave, Doctor,' Spock said patiently. 'I will, of course, try to delay that time. We must leave tomorrow, but I prefer to have as much time to prepare as possible. And you are quite welcome to sleep on the ship, and stay in your cabin when we take off,' he offered. 'Your presence is hardly necessary during take-off procedures.'

McCoy shot a glance at him, trying to work out if he had been insulted. He decided to change the subject rather than begin an argument.

'What about shielding?' he asked. 'And does this thing even have weapons, Spock?'

'Yes, we do own limited phaser banks,' Spock nodded, 'and I am sure you saw the hand phasers and power packs in the emergency locker when you acquainted yourself with safety procedures.'

'Oh, of course,' McCoy nodded, not meeting the Vulcan's eyes.

The doctor hadn't bothered to physically inspect the emergency escape-pods or the weapons locker when he came on board the ship. Not expecting to encounter trouble of any kind on the short journey to Vulcan, he had simply looked through the medical cabinets, then curled up on his bed with a book in the time Spock allowed him to go over the safety procedures. He fully intended to familiarise himself with them now, however.

'But don't forget the Romulans' cloaking shields,' he pointed out.

'I will take care of you,' Suaniak's voice promised from the crystal. 'I can shield your ship, and defend it from attackers.'

'Great,' the doctor said under his breath.

McCoy left the bridge to find exactly where the survival suits, oxygen supplies, and phasers were stored, and from where the emergency escape-pods were released. He had been on the _Enterprise_ five weeks ago when Suaniak had reached out from his tomb to repair _Enterprise_'s damage after being attacked by a Pzyioman ship. He had seen bodies brought back to life, and rips in metal seal themselves. But he'd still rather trust the firm, safe, solid escape-pods over a voice from a glowing crystal, no matter how powerful.

******

'Here.'

Haian stopped proudly at the bottom of a large depression in the middle of a Romulan wood. Janas pushed through the clinging, thorny branches of the surrounding dagger-trees, and slipped down the edge of the dip.

'Here?' she echoed, wiping clinging orange mud off her hands. 'What is here? A hole in a forest. It is not impressive, Haian. We have walked half a day to get here.'

'It was not so long. This is where we will meet Him, Janas. This is where we will meet the Vulcan, and his companions.'

'This is a rubbish hole,' Janas said firmly, trying to keep him in firm touch with reality. 'It is a clay pit. This is where weeds grow, and rotten branches fall, and where fungus of every kind sprouts from the ground. It is hardly the place to meet a god.'

'I did not say he would be a god,' Haian argued. 'I have yet to hear of a god piloting a spacecraft. But I know this is where he will come.'

'That may be,' Janas agreed reluctantly.

She had eventually agreed to try meditation with her brother, and had felt things in her mind, as he had sworn he did. She did not tell him that she felt some things clearer than he had ever described, and had seen this clearing in vivid detail while she sat with her eyes closed. Once, as it was now, dirty, overgrown, weed-choked. And once with a gleaming white spaceship nestling in the hollow, the top almost hidden from view by the steep sides and over hanging trees.

'But how will a ship stay hidden here for long?' she asked, forcing herself to be sceptical.

No matter how much she wanted to, and did, believe in this, she also wanted to try to give a rational argument. It was getting harder. She had already convinced herself that no one had put hallucinogenic drugs in her drink before meditation, and there were very few explanations left for what had happened.

'They will stay hidden,' Haian promised her. 'They will have ways. Powers we do not understand.'

'The Federation has not developed an invisibility shield,' she pointed out. 'How can the Vulcans hide their ship even from our sensors?'

'He is an ancient one. I know that. He is not like the others – but he will bring one like the others. Someone who is of our blood. A brother or sister, Janas,' he said with excitement in his voice.

'Most likely a brother,' she said cynically.

'They have always said that you have the look of a Vulcan,' Haian reminded her. 'With your long dark hair, and eyes that are brown, not grey.'

'I – have seen the images clearer than you,' she admitted in a low voice, 'just as I sometimes feel thoughts and moods before a person speaks. And sometimes, in secret, I have felt more Vulcan than Romulan. I have my loyalty to my planet – as every one of us has – but I am never sure if I belong as you do.'

'I have wished that we could take a ship, and fly up to the stars to meet them,' Haian said, looking up to the sky like a child with a dream. 'I would like to see the stars once – to see our planet from space.'

'If you took a ship up there you would be either banished or imprisoned,' Janas said with cold practicality. 'You know how difficult it is to get permission to own a private ship – and then get the money to buy one. Our government is not the most generous one, nor the most at ease. You could enter the military forces, Haian, if you wished to see the stars.'

'I do not wish to kill or be killed while I do that.'

'You could enter as a physician, or a scientist,' she argued.

'And be made to develop lethal gases, or fatal injections – or simply be killed when our ship is attacked.'

'Those are the dangers that our sister Sanah faces each day,' Janas reminded him. 'It is a selfish thought, but I hope sometimes for her to survive so I will not be forced to kill.'

'They would not force you into the service, Janas,' Haian reassured her. 'They take only one from each family.'

Janas sank down onto a half rotten log, and began picking the soft brown bark off with her fingernails.

'They are talking of taking two. Taking replacements. I will be the eldest.'

'They are always talking, and you know they always find another thing to talk about.' He sat down beside her and surveyed the clearing again, helping her scrape the bark off the log. 'We must think of what we know will happen soon. We will meet a Vulcan, and he will come here. We must be prepared. We must think of ways to excuse journeys into the forest, should we be asked.'

'We have always taken walks in the forest. This will invite no suspicion.'

'Very well. What of hiding these people among our own? What will they eat?'

'I am sure a spacecraft will have its own supplies. Haian, you are far too concerned over things we cannot decide yet. We can only return home, and listen to the thoughts we feel, and wait.'


	10. Chapter 10

10.

After some negotiation, Spock managed to postpone their departure to 2100 in the evening. Vulcan leave-giving was at least more brisk than a human style one. T'Si was asleep, and T'Laani and Skian had followed the small party to the hatch of the _Alcyone_, but there was very little ceremony other than the exchange of a few quiet words, despite the hazardous and important mission that they were about to embark upon.

T'Laani stepped back from the hatchway, saying softly, 'I wish you a safe journey, Spock. Live long and prosper.'

'I shall attempt to do both,' Spock promised her gravely. 'I will, of course, contact you and Skian if we return.'

'Less of the if, thanks,' McCoy growled at him, trying to conceal a growing nervousness. 'I've got absolutely no intention of rotting in a Romulan jail, or being killed, and leaving my God-daughter without a human guardian.'

'God-daughter?' Spock echoed.

'As we made you her _t'vish_,' Skian said solemnly. 'We have heard of the human, Christian custom of giving a child God-parents, and we have chosen McCoy to be T'Si's.'

'If you wish the child to grow with a God-parent whose mind works on only emotion and total illogic,' Spock said, his voice and raised eyebrow suggesting he thought the young Vulcan couple were mad.

'The chance of all three of us being exterminated, leaving only McCoy to care for the child is extremely small,' T'Laani pointed out. 'I make it approximately 99.9879 percent that nothing of the kind should ever happen.'

'Yes, I had calculated that,' Spock agreed. 'Alison?' He turned to his human cousin, who was looking even more Vulcan this morning. 'Did you arrive at the same conclusion?'

The girl blinked slowly. 'I made it 99.9889,' she said.

'I find point nine eight seven seven,' Skian said. 'I suggest we all recalculate, seeking faults in our methods.'

'It's only a goddamn approximation of something that'll probably never happen!' McCoy butted in, his palms beginning to sweat. He was itching to leave the planet now, before he could succumb to the urge to run back into the Vulcans' house and hide under the bedclothes. 'How can you all get the same results for a hypothetical event? And for God's sake, does it really matter that much?'

'I believe we should depart now,' Spock said, glancing tolerantly at McCoy as a parent would look at a restless child. 'I think the doctor is becoming impatient.'

'I am not impatient,' McCoy snapped unreasonably. 'The longer I have my feet on solid earth, the better, even if it is this scorched Vulcan hell-hole you people chose to live in.'

'Doctor, the temperature today is quite cool,' Spock told him.

'Then I sure as hell hope I never get stuck in a heat wave here.' McCoy watched the Vulcan, wondering if he was delaying too. 'Come on, Spock,' he said. 'Or our departure slot'll be filled. We have to get to the terminal.'

'I am aware of our schedule,' Spock told him gently.

'May your journey be successful,' Skian said to the three visitors. 'And may your return be as peaceful.'

'Thank you very much,' Spock nodded, stepping back up into the ship. 'McCoy?'

'Yes, I'm coming,' he said irritably, getting up behind him. 'Goodbye,' he said to the two quiet Vulcans they were leaving behind. 'And take care of little T'Si.'

'We shall endeavour to do our best,' T'Laani promised.

Alison got silently into the ship, and Spock closed the hatch, shutting off McCoy's last view of solid land.

'Spock, can't we just back out?' he asked nervously. 'Suaniak really can't blame us if - '

'Doctor, we cannot back out,' Spock said softly. 'I do not understand why you are so nervous. We have been on dangerous missions before.'

'Yeh. And I sweated on those, too.'

'I could leave you on Vulcan, Doctor,' Spock suggested. 'But you would have to find your own passage back to the _Enterprise_.'

'No way,' he said emphatically. 'I'm not leaving you to do this on your own. God knows what'd happen.'

Spock regarded him with a peeved expression. 'Doctor, why are you so drastically convinced that the captain and I are totally incapable of taking care of ourselves?'

'Because you're both stubborn as mules, you'd both carry on with what you were doing if you were bleeding to death, you both have tendency to forget meals and sleep if you're concentrating, and you both have an unerring knack for getting yourself into the deepest and hottest trouble around,' McCoy said gruffly.

'I see,' Spock nodded. 'I cannot argue with the logic in your explanation, Doctor, even if you were exaggerating a little. The description is one I could apply quite accurately to someone else I know.'

'Who's that?' McCoy asked curiously. 'Maybe I should be keeping an eye on him – or her, too.'

'I suggest you do. He is head surgeon of the _Enterprise_,' Spock told him politely.

He moved through onto the bridge, and sat down in the captain's chair, warming up the engines for take off.

'Ha, ha,' the doctor said sarcastically.

'You have explained why you will not leave me, Doctor,' Spock pointed out. 'But you have not yet explained why this mission is worse than those on the _Enterprise_.'

'The _Enterprise_ is bigger, for one thing, with a crew of four hundred and thirty, and stronger shields. And it doesn't regularly take excursions into Romulan territory. And – it just seems different,' McCoy continued, sitting down. 'Not being on the _Enterprise_, not having the crew there to take care of, not having those phaser banks. Not having Jim Kirk on the bridge. I guess your Vulcan computer banks can't process that kind of feeling.'

'I understand your concern,' Spock told the doctor. 'But this will be a covert mission. And I do not believe the captain will ever be very far away.' Something that looked very much like humour came into his eyes. 'I found the tracer bug that the captain placed in my suitcase before we even left the _Enterprise_. I did not remove it. I am sure he has been monitoring our every movement. I must deactivate it long enough for us to slip over the neutral zone without the captain stopping us – but he will know if we need help, Doctor.'

'Jim bugged us?' McCoy asked, with a grin of sudden relief. 'Trust him. I knew he didn't want us to go, but I didn't know he was that worried.'

'I am glad of his concern, Doctor.'

'Well, it's comforting to know that big ship is watching over us,' McCoy said, and to his surprise, Spock nodded in agreement.

'Illogical,' Alison said softly to herself, and McCoy turned.

'Have you ever been on the _Enterprise_, Miss Grayson?'

The girl concentrated on the forward screen of the bridge, as Spock eased the ship off the ground.

'I have not had that privilege, no,' she said.

'Then you don't know why it makes Spock and me feel so much better to know her captain knows where we are. You'll find out,' he promised. 'If we get in trouble, you'll find out. And if that doesn't stir up any emotion in your Vulcan-contaminated mind, nothing ever will.'

'I shall try to appreciate the moment if it occurs,' she promised softly. 'And I shall also try to explore any emotion I find in it. I am human, Doctor.'

'You don't make it easy to remember. You try pretty hard to be Vulcan.'

'I do not *_try*_ to be Vulcan,' she corrected him. 'It was merely the way I was brought up, Doctor. But denial or shame of the fact that I am human can only lead to self-destruction.'

'Is it the same if someone constantly denies that they're *_half*_ human?' McCoy asked, glancing at Spock.

'I do not deny my human ancestry,' Spock told him. 'I merely do not boast of it.'

'You can't stand it,' the doctor argued. 'You'd be the last one to – '

'Silence please, Doctor,' Spock interrupted. 'I must concentrate. We are flying at a high velocity in an atmosphere, at one of the peak times, amongst other traffic, some of whom may be holiday makers or inexperienced drivers. I do not wish to crash before we have even left the planet.'

McCoy breathed out noisily, and went through into the galley to find some food for him and Cikita.

'I won't call you when dinner's ready, then,' he called over his shoulder.

'Thank you, Doctor,' Spock replied politely. 'That will be less distracting.'

'He will be able to smell the food,' Alison got in before the door hissed shut.

******

'Sir, they're moving!' Sulu cried sharply from his seat at the _Enterprise_ helm. 'They're nowhere near Vulcan now! They must have gone since we last checked. And they're not due to rendezvous with us until Dr McCoy calls. They have to know where we are first.'

'Where are they, Helmsman?' Kirk asked quickly.

'Heading away from Vulcan at speed.' Guilt crossed his face. 'Sir, I'm not sure how I feel about spying on Mr Spock. He's entitled to his privacy, and Vulcans are very private people.'

'We're not spying, exactly, Lieutenant,' Kirk explained carefully. 'It's not like I put a camera or a microphone in his cabin. We're just checking on where he is – in case we need to contact him.'

Sulu looked doubtful, until Chekov put an elbow in his ribs from beside him.

'Look on it as an exercise,' he whispered. 'In tracking unidentified spacecraft. Ve do not need to know vhy they are going somevhere – just vhere they are going.'

'Okay,' he smiled weakly, looking back to his console, as Chekov jumped, startled.

'Sir!' he said in surprise. 'Ve've lost them!'

Kirk sat upright sharply in his chair. 'Lost them? How? You were watching.'

'I know, sir. But one moment it vas there, then it jumped, and fizzled out. Like a Russian candle, sir.'

'I thought they were Roman candles,' Sulu murmured. 'If you're talking about fireworks.'

'Roman now, maybe. But they vere Russian first,' he shrugged, his eyes sparkling with humour. 'And the reading just fizzled out like one.'

'Fizzled?' Kirk repeated. 'That's not a very scientific term.'

'That's vhat happened, sir.'

'That's what my instruments say too, sir,' Sulu agreed gravely, returning his attention to his board.

'Uhura?' the captain asked, turning around.

'I can't pick up the signal on any frequency, sir,' she said, her hands flying over the buttons even as she spoke.

'It is possible it is simply a storm, sir,' Chekov suggested. 'That could blank out the signal for a vhile. It vould seem to – fizzle – as it vent through the thinner edges of a cloud, then blank out altogether.'

'There are no reported storms in that area,' Uhura pointed out, checking her readouts.

'But they can come up suddenly sometimes,' Sulu argued on behalf of the Russian. 'We've had experience of that ourselves.'

'Maybe,' Kirk nodded. 'Keep watching, Sulu.'

'There's something appearing,' he said doubtfully. 'Something faint, as if it is through a storm. Not on its projected course, though.'

'Then plot the new course, Sulu, and project its possible target.'

'It's coming back clearer now, Captain. Sir, they've changed course again! They're entering the Romulan Neutral Zone right now!' he exclaimed.

Kirk sat up even straighter, feeling as if all the breath had been knocked out of his lungs. 'Can we intercept? Can we bring them back in any way?'

'Captain, ve're nowhere near enough to intercept,' Chekov said apologetically. 'Even if ve reached ahead vith a tractor beam.'

'They're openly inviting war!' Kirk said in horror. 'They're risking the peace of the Federation, and of the Romulan Empire. And God knows, the Romulans hardly need an excuse to start a war.'

Sulu looked up again, his mouth slightly open with shock. Kirk tried to relax, trying to accept the fact that there was nothing he could do no matter how agitated he got.

'Sir, if they carry on along that course – ' The helmsman looked again at the readings, double-checking. 'If they carry on along that course, at that speed, they will arrive at the planet Romulus in three point five days.'

Kirk jumped to his feet, coming forward to lean over the man's console.

'Romulus? Are you sure? Check again.'

'Yes, sir. I have,' he nodded. 'I can't believe it, but that's what the sensors say. And my sensors don't lie, Captain.'

Kirk slumped back down into his chair. Sulu looked at his own knees, not liking what he was about to say to his captain.

'Sir, could Mr Spock and Dr McCoy - '

'What, Mr Sulu?' Kirk asked sharply.

He shook his head. 'Nothing, sir.'

'You were about to ask – could – could Spock and McCoy be acting as spies for the Romulans?' he asked. 'I – guess they could, but logically – logically – how could they? I've known Bones for a long time. He doesn't have many secrets from me. He's never had contact with any Romulan, and he wouldn't jeopardise the Federation. And Spock. I'm sure a Vulcan would be capable of espionage, if he was convinced of its logic. But not Spock. He's – too human. He knows right from wrong.'

'But if they're not, sir - ?'

'There are three possible answers,' Kirk said grimly. 'Either they are spying for the Federation, they're on a suicide mission, or they're totally insane. Personally, I think I prefer the last, I doubt the first, and I'd bet all I had on the middle, much as I hate saying it. I don't think Bones would agree to being a spy either way, and flying straight for Romulus isn't spy tactics.'

'It seems insane to me, sir,' Sulu offered. 'And Mr Spock was – '

'Extremely unhappy, maybe suicidal,' Kirk nodded, 'but there are far more logical ways of committing suicide than flying into Romulan territory. Uhura told me I had a message that wasn't supposed to be viewed until next week. I thought it was sealed orders – I gave the disc to Scotty for safekeeping – but I'll bet it's from Spock.'

'Sir – can we do anything to stop them?'

'We may not have the right – if this is some secret mission. Damn!' He slapped his hand on the arm of his chair. 'Why couldn't he have told me? Command can't steal my officers for a suicide mission without even telling their commanding officer. But we can't do anything unless they come out of Romulan territory – or get close enough to us in the neutral for us to pull them out with a tractor beam.'

'Captain, I've lost every reading from their ship,' Uhura broke in.

A heavy weight settled in Kirk's stomach, and he swung his chair around slowly to look at the communications officer. 'What killed them? Was it a bird of prey? Is there anything left of them?'

'Sir, nothing killed them. They're still there. I can pick up the locator bug, but nothing else.'

'Spock wouldn't throw the locator bug over-board, if he found it,' Kirk reasoned. 'He'd dismantle it, but he wouldn't throw it over, and risk leading me into some hazardous part of space after it.'

'Sir, you don't understand,' Uhura persisted. 'They haven't just gone somewhere else. Suddenly, every reading from their ship winked out. It's – as if they're cloaked!'

'They – can't have stolen a Romulan cloaking device,' Kirk said in bewilderment. 'There just wasn't time!'

'Sir, it's not like the Romulan ones. It's hundreds of times better. There aren't even sensor ghosts, exhaust trails – Just the locator signal, loud and clear – and as far as I can make out, detectable only to the _Enterprise_ sensors.'

'I don't understand. I just don't understand.' Kirk jumped up to Spock's science console, and reviewed all the facts from the computer there. 'I still don't understand. None of this is – as Spock would say – none of this is logical. Uhura, keep tracking that signal,' he ordered. 'And call Mr Scott. Tell him to come to my quarters with that disc of sealed orders I entrusted him with. I'm going to see what Spock has to say for himself in the message he left for me.'

******

The _Alcyone_ raced silently through the empty space of the Romulan Neutral Zone, black and hidden from every ship's sensors, the only space craft in the area. Alison sat motionless at her console, watching a small viewscreen set into the boards, secretly marvelling at the multicoloured beauty of the stars and gaseous clouds that covered this region. A small shower of meteors flashed past like sparks from a wood fire, and were left far behind. She set the screen for a rear view, and watched space receding behind them, searching for any visual signs of pursuing ships that Spock's computers weren't picking up.

'Are they coming after us?' McCoy asked nervously, looking over Spock's shoulder at the computer screens he was studying. 'Are they trying to stop us?'

'I can see no signs,' Alison answered from her console, eyes fixed on the screen.

The Vulcan watched the flashing lines and dots on his tactical screen a moment longer, then twisted his head around to look at the doctor.

'The _Enterprise_ temporarily lost our signal when I deactivated the tracer bug the captain had planted. Our course change was sufficient to confuse them for a short moment, and we managed to enter the Neutral Zone before they could stop us, or signal to any other ship to stop us. Of course, they will not follow us into the Neutral Zone.'

'That was what I was afraid of,' the doctor said glumly. 'I thought maybe Jim might rescue us before anything happened.'

'It is lucky that Spock managed to confuse the _Enterprise_ well enough for us to enter undetected,' Alison told him quietly from her station, not looking up from her readouts.

'So where are we?' McCoy asked the Vulcan.

Spock nodded his head to draw the doctor's attention to the screen, and pointed at a small, flashing green dot that was moving slowly across the computer generated picture.

'That, Doctor, is the _Alcyone_. We are currently travelling at Warp 4. The broken yellow lines either side of us are the edges of the Neutral Zone. The red stars on the other side are those of the Romulan Empire - the largest being that which Romulus revolves about - the blue behind us are in Federation territory. The large yellow dot in that sector is the _Enterprise_, which, as far as I can deduce, is travelling toward the Neutral Zone at Warp 5, maybe in the hope that we will return. The other yellow dots in that sector are other Starfleet ships. You will notice that the _Enterprise_ is the nearest.'

'I think so,' he said uncertainly, the different colours and dots confusing him. Some of the ships looked like stars.

'Spock are you sure this cloaking is working?' McCoy asked suddenly.

Spock gave him a withering look. 'Doctor, we are now well into the Romulan Neutral Zone. If it were not working, we would have concrete evidence by now. We would either be dead, or held captive on a Romulan ship. The only ship that can track us is the _Enterprise_.'

'We're going to get killed, and it'll be our own stupid fault,' the doctor prophesied gloomily. 'We'll go down as the craziest people in history. They'll say it at our funeral. They died for stupidity. They died for some crazy Vulcan god, who – '

'I am listening to every word you speak, McCoy,' Suaniak's voice warned him suddenly from the crystal. 'Must I keep reminding you I am not a god? I am merely a king. Are you not grateful for my shielding?'

'Okay,' McCoy said quickly. He looked out at the stars sprinkling the viewscreen, and shrugged. There were no birds of prey swooping down on them. No Starfleet ships scuttling in from the Federation to stop them before they started a war. 'I'm grateful. It's better than going in here without any kind of protection. But what about them, and their shields?'

'I can see through them,' Suaniak informed him patiently.

'Aren't you the one with all the prophecies of the future on your bedroom walls?' the doctor asked suddenly. 'Do you know how this is going to turn out?'

'Yes, I do know whether or not the mission will be successful.'

'Then for God's sake, tell us,' McCoy pleaded. 'Then we can decide whether to just turn round and go home or not.'

'I cannot reveal the future to you,' Suaniak told him gently. 'It is not permitted.'

'I don't care if it's permitted or not! We're not exactly near the local police station. No one's going to come after you to arrest you.'

'If I tell you the future, bad luck will fall upon us all. The mission will be doomed. You will be doomed.'

Spock raised an eyebrow at what sounded like a line out of one of Scotty's old books.

'I thought Vulcans weren't superstitious,' the doctor grumbled, glaring malevolently at Suaniak's glowing crystal that still stood before the command chair.

He couldn't quite get used to living with a crystal that argued back. The very immobility of the rock gave him the impression of something that wouldn't budge no matter what you said. He eyed the cables leading to the consoles, wondering what would happen if he accidentally caught his foot in one and pulled it out.

'The shielding would disappear, and you would be killed,' Suaniak obliged. 'I do not advise it.'

'Spock, will you tell your pet rock not to read my mind?' McCoy asked heatedly. 'It's disconcerting.'

'It *_is*_ unethical to read another's thoughts without their permission,' Spock told Suaniak apologetically. 'It is illegal to do so on Vulcan.'

'To adhere to my planet's laws, I shall listen only to spoken words,' Suaniak conceded.

'And can you ask him to stop predicting gloom and doom, too?' the doctor asked Spock as an afterthought.

'The ancient Vulcans could be extremely superstitious,' Spock said disapprovingly. 'But I do agree with Suaniak that he cannot tell us of the future. The possibilities are – too confusing.'

'It is wiser to simply let what will happen, happen,' Alison nodded. 'And to take care that something unfortunate does not happen.'

'I don't like that phrase,' McCoy told her. 'Something unfortunate. Do you mean something unfortunate like dropping your favourite mug, or tripping on the stairs, or something unfortunate like being killed?'

She regarded him calmly. 'I mean we must endeavour to avoid any negative incidents.'

'I'll go with that. I'll definitely try to avoid negative incidents like being blown up. So what do we do when we get there?' McCoy persisted.

'Do, Doctor?' Spock repeated, an eyebrow angled upward slightly.

'Do. For one thing, where will we park? Do they have car parks for very-illegal-aliens?'

'Doctor, we could park Spock's ship in the centre of a Romulan highway and they would not see it,' Alison retorted, sounding slightly more human than usual.

'We will not park it in a street,' Spock said firmly.

'We will land in a wood,' Suaniak informed them. 'There is a natural hollow in the ground, in which the ship will be hidden from view, by my shields and by the trees.'

'And who do we hand you over to?' the doctor asked. 'Do we dump you under a tree like an unwanted baby, or give you to someone? Do you need licenses for keeping gods? Is it like having a dog?'

'Doctor, be serious,' Spock pleaded. 'I am sure we may tackle those issues when the time comes.'

'You mean you haven't got a clue,' McCoy said with an air of satisfaction.

'I cannot answer when I am not in possession of all the facts,' Spock retorted, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the forward viewscreen. 'I do not have a population list of Romulus. I know none of the people. When we reach the planet – then we will decide.'


	11. Chapter 11

11.

Scott was already waiting outside Kirk's door when the captain got down there from the bridge. The _Enterprise_'s Chief Engineer had been reading a technical journal in his off-duty time, and only had to come the short distance from his own quarters. He was holding a small red disc in his palm. He looked up as Kirk approached.

'Captain,' he said. 'Ye wanted to see me?'

'Come in, Scotty,' Kirk invited him, opening the door. 'Sit down by my desk.'

He poured some light Romulan ale into two glasses, and was suddenly struck with the absurd thought that maybe Spock could bring some back with him, duty-free. He pushed that out of his mind angrily. This was supposed to be serious. He put the glasses down on the table, and sat down.

'Drink that, Scotty,' he ordered. 'You'll need it.'

'Aye, Captain,' he smiled, taking a sip of the strong ale. 'Are ye about to give me a shock?' he asked, suddenly looking apprehensive. 'Command doesn't want to reorganise my engine room again, sir?'

'Nothing quite so drastic, Scotty,' Kirk smiled. 'I take it you've been holed up in your quarters, reading?'

'Aye, sir,' he nodded.

'Then you won't have heard.' He downed a sip of the ale, took in a deep breath, and looked directly at his chief engineer. 'Mr Spock and Dr McCoy have just taken their ship into the Romulan Neutral Zone.'

Scott spluttered a mouthful of drink back into the glass, and looked up in absolute amazement.

'What? Have they gone mad, Captain?'

'I don't know,' Kirk said, shaking his head. 'I hope not. Although maybe that'd be better. They could at least claim insanity at their trial. But that's why I wanted that communication you were keeping for me.'

Scotty silently handed Kirk the thin disc.

'I thought these orders weren't to be read until next week, if ye don't mind me saying, sir?' he asked worriedly.

'Yes, well, I don't think they're from Command, Scotty,' Kirk said meaningfully.

'Ye think it's from Mr Spock, and the doctor?' he asked curiously.

'That's what I'm hoping,' he nodded. 'There's one way to find out.'

Kirk stared at the disc, as if he could read what was on it by staring at the red casing, then, with an air of determination, he slipped it into the slot in his computer. The grey screen was replaced by the picture of a Vulcan in civilian clothes. The background was filled with the flashing lights and screens of a small ship's bridge.

'Mr Spock!' Scotty said, half in surprise. 'Where is he, sir? That looks like a fine ship.'

'I assume that's Mr Spock's craft,' Kirk said. He pointed to a figure sitting at a console in the background. 'And that looks like Bones.'

Scott was looking at another figure. 'Who's the girl? And is that a cat on the floor, sir?'

Kirk put his finger on a button to take the tape off pause, and the slightly blurred picture began to move. Spock's voice came out of the speaker, loud and clear.

'Captain Kirk. This is a prerecorded message. I gave the order for it not to be viewed until a week after receipt, but I assume you are viewing it shortly after you watched us leave Federation territory. I hope it will explain some of the reason why we are travelling to Romulus.

'You recall Suaniak of Vulcan, whose consciousness we discovered in Pnauh'Kmaghe some weeks ago. He has made a decision that the races that left Vulcan after his reign have the right to know of his existence, and of their own shared past. The foremost of these races is, of course, the Romulan one. Luckily, most of the other off-shoots of my race are either in Federation territory, or in non-hostile territory. Suaniak's problem explains why I was experiencing a considerable – mental disturbance. Suaniak was calling to me. It is also why Dr McCoy, my niece, Ms Alison Grayson, and I, have just travelled into the Romulan Neutral Zone.

'Suaniak has developed a way to split his consciousness,' Spock continued. 'He has managed to divide himself, and yet not divide. He is on Vulcan, but his consciousness is also with us, contained in a crystal receptacle.'

There was a sudden tearing noise, like a cat sharpening its claws on upholstery, and the Vulcan exclaimed. 'Cikita!' Spock looked down towards his feet, and pushed something away that was below the edge of the screen.

'I apologise, Jim,' the message resumed in a less formal tone. 'I have a Rigilian tundra cat living upon my craft. She can be unruly.'

Kirk thought he heard a mutter from McCoy in the background, but couldn't make out what he had said.

'We have the permission from certain agencies to undertake this trip,' Spock carried on, 'as long as it is performed under the utmost secrecy. I should not be leaving you this message, but I feel it wise for you to know what is happening. Suaniak is protecting our ship with an invisibility shield, and has made every possible guarantee for our safety. We shall make every attempt to complete our mission, and return unharmed, but – '

'You bet we will,' McCoy broke in, coming down to Spock's chair to stand at his elbow. Scotty was suddenly reminded of the way Spock and McCoy would stand either side of Kirk on the _Enterprise_ bridge, and he smiled.

'But,' Spock repeated, a little more loudly. 'In case we do not, I would appreciate your sorting out my affairs, and informing my parents of what I have done.' He turned to look over his shoulder. 'Now, Doctor. You may speak.'

'Thanks,' McCoy said gruffly. 'Hi, Jim.' His expression looked sheepish. 'I guess you think I've gone crazy too, now, but someone has to follow this Vulcan and set his broken bones for him when he gets them. And he's still recovering from the soup that Suaniak made of his mind, no matter what he says to the contrary.'

'That is true,' the Vulcan nodded unexpectedly, glancing briefly at the doctor.

'So I'm going because Spock needs me to make sure he eats, and goes to bed at the right time,' the doctor resumed. 'And if we don't get back whole, I'm suing him for every penny he has. So - ' He seemed to be lost for words, then an optimistic grin lit his face. 'You better start programming the replicators for a slap-up meal, 'cause I'll be hungry when I get back.'

The screen went black and silent for a moment, then when it came back, Kirk saw the bridge was clear, with only Spock on it. The Vulcan leaned a little closer to the screen.

'Captain Kirk,' he said with the utmost seriousness. 'Jim, if we do not return, I wish you to know that you have been a good friend to me, and to Dr McCoy, and that we value and appreciate that friendship most deeply. Also, you must know that I am the captain on this mission, and I take full responsibility for any of the consequences. I can only say, live long, and prosper – and I can only hope you are wishing us luck. Farewell.'

The screen faded out to black again, and the computer ejected the tape.

'Good luck, Spock,' Kirk said quietly.

'Aye,' Scotty agreed. 'Captain, what do you say to requesting we be assigned to border patrols for a wee while?'

'I think that sounds like a good idea, Scotty,' Kirk grinned. 'I'll speak to command. I'm sure they won't mind letting us patrol our side of the Neutral Zone. It's not something most ships jump at.'

******

'Spock, can we go home now?'

Spock turned at McCoy's plaintive request. The doctor's eyes were fixed on the crescent planet on the viewscreen. They had approached Romulus at an angle to the sun, and two thirds of the planet was shrouded in a darkness that was pricked with clusters of light where the population intensified. The day-lit sliver of the planet was Earth-like, but perhaps somewhat greyer, giving it a rather haunting appearing. The planet sat placidly among a sprinkling of bright white stars, looking extraordinarily calm and quiet for the home planet of the Romulans, the war-like Vulcan off-shoots who expanded their territory by force and ruthless conquering.

'Doctor, do you really wish us to have undertaken this entire journey for nothing?' Spock asked with well-practised patience.

'I could make him quiet,' Suaniak said from his crystal, the god-like voice almost pleading. 'I could take the sound from his throat.'

'Or I could lock him in his cabin,' Alison suggested quietly from her console. 'Spock, I believe I am beginning to understand the emotion of irritation in an entirely new light. How do you cope with living with this person for months and years aboard a starship?'

'Meditation,' Spock answered. 'And long experience. He is really quite intelligent when he wishes to be.'

'Thanks,' McCoy said sarcastically, feeling as he had just been described like a disobedient dog whose only saving grace was that he could do tricks occasionally. 'But at least I don't just sit at a science console all the time, looking about as interesting as a block of wood. Maybe you should try using a double negative sometimes.'

'Doctor, you are being unusually trying,' Spock told him. 'You are far exceeding your normal capability for irritation.'

'So you admit to being irritated, under that thick Vulcan hide, do you?' McCoy asked.

'I did no such thing. I stated that you are exceeding your normal capability for irritation. I made no mention of the impact of that capability upon my own condition.'

'I have completed the plotting of our course, and have sent co-ordinates into the navigational computer for our landing position,' Suaniak broke in. Even a crystal-bound, bodiless Katra had the sense to break up an argument between people who had been jammed together on a small ship for a week. 'There is a small depression in a forest of roughly 200 square kilometres. It lies upon one of the smaller land masses in the northern hemisphere of the planet.'

Spock bent over his computer for a few moments, then straightened again.

'I have superimposed our target on the picture on the viewscreen. We may now begin our descent.'

'Are you sure they won't see us?' McCoy asked. 'I'm not moaning,' he added quickly, glancing warily at the crystal. 'I just don't want to be fried by the Romulan defences.'

'A quite logical concern,' Spock nodded. 'But our shields are completely effective, Doctor. If they were not, we would not have remained in orbit for so long.'

The scene on the viewscreen shifted as the nose of the ship tilted downward towards the planet surface. At that moment, a sinister looking Romulan bird of prey appeared in the corner of the screen, heading straight for them.

'Spock!' the doctor croaked soundlessly.

'Do not be concerned, Doctor,' Spock said calmly.

'Don't be - !' he began incredulously.

An alarm suddenly sounded, reverberating throughout the ship, and the lights in the cabin began to flash red. The _Alcyone_ lurched sideways, flinging the doctor out of his seat and onto the floor. McCoy lost his stomach as the ship twisted over and over too fast for the artificial gravity to compensate – then the gravity kicked out altogether, and the doctor had to claw his fingers into the carpet to keep from being flung up onto the ceiling by the movement. The computer was quietly talking to itself, calmly repeating, 'Collision, collision, collision,' as if it was announcing the weather forecast.

One flailing arm found the edge of a seat that was firmly fixed to its rail on the floor, and the doctor hung on for dear life. His body thudded to the floor as the gravity abruptly came back on line, making the side of his rib-cage throb. McCoy closed his eyes, gripping the edge of the seat, and waited for a burst of weapons fire to blast them out of existence.

Nothing happened. The tossing and turning gradually stopped, and the alarm siren faded out. A moment later, the computer's calm warning broke off, and the doctor dared to open his eyes.

'We're not dead,' he realised, honestly surprised.

He looked around the bridge. Alison was sprawled on the floor, her hands still firmly around the trunk-like support of a chair. He couldn't see Spock.

'I am not injured,' Spock's niece said softly, seeing McCoy's anxious look.

Then Spock clambered up off the floor from behind his command chair, looking around with a dazed expression.

'Spock, are you okay?' McCoy asked quickly.

'Suaniak?' Spock snapped, ignoring McCoy's question. His concern was not simply personal. If Suaniak was damaged, it was likely that the ship's perfect shielding would also be damaged. 'Is the crystal undamaged?' he asked.

'I am uninjured,' Suaniak announced. 'The anchoring of the crystal was well done. I was protected from the turbulence.'

'Well, it's a pity we weren't,' McCoy growled. 'So much for *_do not be concerned_*! Spock, you're cut,' he realised. 'You've hit your head.'

Spock touched a hand to his forehead, and examined the small amount of green blood on his fingers.

'Not seriously, Doctor. You may see to it later.'

'It's serious enough for me to treat it for you now,' McCoy said firmly. 'What in hell happened? I thought you said the Romulans wouldn't detect us?'

'They did not detect us.'

'Then what the hell was that bird of prey doing?'

'It was simply leaving orbit,' Spock told him calmly. 'The shields were almost too effective, Doctor. The line of their course was obviously plotted straight through our position. I – failed to take account of that factor,' he said rather reluctantly.

'You – failed – to think of that?' McCoy gibed, an astonished expression on his face.

'I failed,' Spock nodded. 'So I was forced to take rather abrupt evasive action.'

'So it didn't hit us?'

'No, Doctor,' Spock said with a raised eyebrow. 'We would not be having this conversation if it had. Everyone – including the crew of the Romulan ship – would undoubtedly be dead if that had happened.'

'So what was all that rolling about? The computer was waffling about a collision. It wasn't just your evasive action. The damn gravity cut off.'

'As I said,' Spock said with an air of infinite patience. 'The ship was leaving orbit – probably embarking on a patrol mission. We were too close to it when it went into warp speed. We were caught in the turbulence – as a small sailing dingy would be beside an ocean steamer on old Earth. Our craft must have been comparable to a matchbox next to the Romulan warship.'

'Why don't you just get this bucket of rust down on the ground, then?' the doctor asked, 'while I get my things to treat that cut.'

'The _Alcyone_ is not rusty,' Spock countered. 'I recall that you quite admired the ship before this incident. But I thought you were reluctant to land a moment ago, Doctor?'

'Right now, I just want to get my feet on solid ground,' McCoy said with feeling, 'whether it's hostile solid ground or not.'

'I have the course plotted,' Spock told him soothingly. 'I shall implement it.'

'Without crashing, I hope?'

'Maybe it would be best, Alison, if you were to adjust your scanners to pick up any Romulan vessels in our vicinity, or travelling towards us?' Spock suggested with a hint of pique.

'I shall do so,' the woman nodded, running her fingers over the controls on her console.

'Would've been nice if someone had though of that before,' McCoy muttered to no one in particular. He got unsteadily to his feet, pressing a hand to his bruised side, and made his way though to his small cabin in the aft of the ship.

******

As soon as they were a mile above the surface, Spock took over with manual controls, carefully and expertly easing the ship into the small pocket in the forest, breaking almost none of the branches of the overhanging trees around it. He never would have voiced the thought, but McCoy could not help but admire Spock's piloting skill, considering how little he had opportunity to perform such feats.

Alison looked up from her scanners.

'I read no significant congregations of life forms for an approximate six kilometre radius,' she announced. 'And there are no overhead satellites capable of seeing our ship from above. However – I am now getting readings of two Vulcanoid life forms, nearby. Putting it on screen.'

The viewscreen shimmered, and everyone saw the two young Romulans, both of them looking surprisingly unwarlike, standing near a fallen tree at the edge of the clearing with expressions of confused surprise on their faces.

'Well, there they are,' McCoy shrugged.

'That is correct,' Suaniak agreed, the crystal pulsing with soft light. 'Their names are Haian and Tijanas Ztaran. They are brother and sister. Haian Ztaran will be the one to learn of my knowledge, and his people's history.'

Alison raised a Vulcan-like eyebrow. 'And the female?'

'I cannot tell you of her future.'

'Okay, Spock.' McCoy had been standing in the doorway, waving his scanner at Alison. Now he came forward, holding his instruments before him. 'Your niece is fine, but I'd better patch you up.'

He came round in front of the Vulcan, and scanned the cut with irritating slowness and care.

'At least there's no concussion,' he murmured.

'Doctor, I do not have time for this now,' Spock said firmly.

McCoy went ahead with his repairs, ignoring the Vulcan. He finished with the portable wound sealer, and rubbed a plaster over the cut on Spock's forehead.

'There. We can't have those poor people's first glimpse of a Vulcan being one of a Vulcan with blood all down his face,' McCoy told him. 'You're all ready to meet our friends now.'

'I have partly lowered the shields,' Suaniak announced. 'They can see our ship, but sensors will not detect it. No one else can see us.'

'Fascinating,' Spock murmured. 'I see no scientific means by which you could so this.'

'It is not scientific, Spock,' Suaniak chided him. 'It is simply a manifestation of my power.'

'Fancy that,' McCoy grinned, looking sideways at Spock to gauge his reaction. 'A Vulcan magician.'

'Nor is it magic,' Suaniak disagreed. 'Spock, I suggest that you go to meet the chosen ones.'

Spock nodded, getting to his feet.

'That seems wise.' He started for the bridge door, then turned. 'You will all stay here and watch the viewscreen. There is no point in exposing us all to unnecessary danger.'

And with those words he went to the main hatch of the ship, and with an appropriate degree of anticipation, released the catches.


	12. Chapter 12

12.

Haian and Janas waited dejectedly at the edge of the clearing, watching the damp hollow. They had sat there all day, waiting, and now it was beginning to get cold and dark. Then, just as Janas was considering returning home, one of the uppermost dead branches silently broke off its tree and dropped to the ground with a clatter and a rustle. Soon, every twig and branch protruding into the depression had been pushed aside or mysteriously and silently flattened to the ground.

Janas leapt to her feet, watching expectantly. There was no sign of anything in the clearing, but there had to be something there – if just to absorb the noise that the breaking wood should have made. Then the air shimmered, and a gleaming white ship appeared in the middle of the hollow, almost filling it edge to edge.

'Haian!' she exclaimed, put her hand on his shoulder to shake him. 'Look!'

Her brother couldn't move. He was already staring at the ship that was obviously of alien make. For the first time in his life, he found himself truly speechless. He wasn't sure how long he stared, but then there was a click, and a hum, and a panel slid open in the side of the white hull. Then a face looked out, unclear against the dark opening.

'Good evening,' a smooth, deep voice said. 'I trust you have not been waiting for too long?'

Janas stepped forward slowly. 'Are – are you a Vulcan?'

'Very much so,' the man nodded. 'I am told you are the ones that Suaniak has chosen to learn of his history. You are privileged.'

'I – I know.' Janas jerked Haian to his feet, muttering, 'Speak, brother!'

'I – My name is Haian,' Haian managed to get out.

The face raised a Romulan-like eyebrow. 'I suggest that you both come aboard,' he invited, gesturing behind him. 'It would be easier to conduct a conversation inside – and that is where Suaniak is.'

'Thank you!' Janas said quickly, stumbling across the ground. She climbed up into the ship, followed by Haian, and stared at the tall man who stood there so unemotionally.

'You are a Vulcan?' she stammered. 'You come from Vulcan? You look – so Romulan!'

'Just as you look Vulcan,' he told her. 'Although I believe that there tends to be some small difference in the formation of the ears. It is hardly noticeable, of course. And of course, there is the emotional difference.'

'You are very – you seem so calm,' Haian realised. 'Not like us. We can be so hot-headed.'

'As Vulcans were before the reformation,' he nodded. 'I am Spock – I own this ship. Just as you were chosen to receive Suaniak's information, I was chosen to convey him to you.'

Janas stepped forward again. 'Are you – is it true that you are our relative? That we are daughter and son of Suaniak, and so are you?'

'Apparently, yes, we do hold the same blood, however thin that must be by now,' he confirmed calmly. 'You must be told, of course, that I am half human. I am not a typical Vulcan. But by training, I am quite equal to other Vulcans. I hope it does not disappoint you?'

'No – of course not – We – '

A human looked around the edge of a door, peering with a mixture with suspicion and excitement at the two Romulans.

'Spock, are you going to bring them in here?' he asked impatiently.

Haian started, taking on a defensive posture. 'A human!' Then he shook himself. 'No. I am sorry. We are taught to hate humans. They make it almost reflex in us. We learn that humans are weak vermin to be trodden underfoot.'

'Haian!' Janas exclaimed.

'I know,' he nodded, frustrated at himself. 'I know they are people just as us. It is simply hard to reject what has been told to me so forcefully. Maybe I am more Romulan than I had thought…'

'I understand your reaction,' Spock nodded. 'It would be almost impossible for me to reject my disciplines of logic if I wished to.'

'So is it okay for me to come out?' the human asked. 'I'm not too good at trusting Romulans, either, but I'll give it a shot.'

He slid around the door, and faced them. He looked older than the Vulcan before them, and much more emotional, even if it was just indicated by the lines on his face.

'May I introduce Dr Leonard McCoy,' Spock said to them both. He turned to the human, and gestured towards Janas. 'Doctor, this is Tijanas Ztaran, and Haian Ztaran.'

'Pleased to meet you,' the human said, holding out his hand.

Janas quickly tried to remember what they were taught of Earth customs, but could only think that this may be an invitation to fight.

'You shake it,' the doctor said helpfully. 'I don't know why, but it's what you do when you meet friends.'

'Oh!' Janas reached out to shake the hand firmly, noticing how much cooler humans were than Romulans. 'I had thought that it was – I thought it was a challenge. It was what we were told, when we learned of Earth.'

'Typical,' the doctor muttered.

'I believe the gesture is to show that neither person has a weapon,' Spock supplied.

Haian stared at him. 'But one could hold a hand weapon in either hand.'

'Even more typical,' the doctor muttered again.

'It is taken,' Spock said, 'that one would not hold a weapon in the left hand. The custom originated when weapons were more unwieldy, and difficult to aim, especially when one is right handed. Humans have dominance of one side of their body over the other.'

'I see. We are taught that Vulcans are weak and peaceful,' Haian said, eyeing Spock cautiously. 'That they cannot fight.'

'We believe in peace and logic,' Spock said. 'But we can fight, extremely effectively, when we need to,' he added meaningfully.

'I hope you will forgive my brother,' Janas said quickly. 'But we are taught to hate humans, and especially Vulcans. As Haian has said, the feeling is made almost reflex.'

'There is no need to try to excuse one's nature,' Spock said. 'Vulcans, and Romulans, are naturally aggressive, passionate people. It is only by very strict training that Vulcans are as we are today.'

'Spock, are they going to meet Suaniak or not?' McCoy pressed. 'That's what we're here for, isn't it?'

'Of course.' Spock turned to the bridge door. 'If you would follow me, please.'

Haian stepped after the tall, thin Vulcan, onto a small, circular bridge. His eyes fell on the glowing crystal near the front of the room.

'What is that?' he asked curiously, taking a step towards the object.

The light pulsed, and he stepped back nervously. Then a voice emanated from the crystal.

'I am Suaniak. I have spoken to you, my children.'

'The Voice,' Janas exclaimed. 'It is the voice that we heard in meditation.'

'Yes, daughter,' Suaniak said solemnly. 'I was the one who spoke to you.'

'Then - then you are our father?' Haian asked.

'Oh, God, here we go again,' McCoy muttered.

Haian walked slowly forward, and knelt beside the crystal, his back very straight. He bowed his head respectfully.

'I am not sure how to address you, father.'

'You are speaking to me with proper respect,' Suaniak replied. 'That is sufficient.'

'May I – ' He reached out a hand tentatively. 'May I touch the crystal?'

'If you wish to do so.'

Haian put his palm on the crystal. It wasn't cold, as he had expected, but slightly warm, and very smooth. He could see reflections of his own hand on the cracks inside.

'It feels alive!' he said in amazement.

'It carries the soul of Suaniak,' Spock said. 'One could say it is a living body. It is a vessel that sustains his mind. Haian, Suaniak has come to give you knowledge of your past. The knowledge must not be misused. It must be let known to the people of your planet – but in a more subtle way than we are showing you.'

'Are we – are we to take the crystal, or simply knowledge – or – ?' Haian faltered.

'The crystal was necessary to sustain me on the journey,' Suaniak replied. 'The demands put upon me for shielding and such were great. We will build a housing for me here – disguised as some innocent object. It could be as small as a jewelled dagger, or as large as a house – as long as it is constructed of the right materials. You may also record what I tell you, on paper or in your computers. There will be time to discuss all that.'

'How long?' he asked.

'As short as possible,' McCoy said earnestly.

Spock raised an eyebrow. 'I had not considered the length of our stay. I would assume, until we have built the housing. It would be dangerous to stay here for too long. Even if a person cannot see the ship, there is the danger of someone seeing one of us entering it, or even of a person walking into it.'

'No one comes here,' Janas said quickly. 'Only us.'

'There may be others who assume the same thing. How did you discover this place?'

'As children,' Haian shrugged. 'We came exploring.'

'Yes,' Spock nodded. 'Woods are popular places for children to come exploring in.'

'I take your point,' Alison nodded.

'So we could be overcome with swarms of kids,' McCoy said.

'I did not say that, Doctor,' Spock pointed out. 'It is unlikely that many people will come here, but there is always the possibility.'

'Doctor, will you accompany me?' Alison asked abruptly, getting to her feet and beckoning McCoy to the door.

He looked at her curiously, then followed her off the bridge, and into the corridor outside. She led him into the small ship's mess, and sat down at one of the chairs beside the table.

'I believed we should leave Spock and Suaniak to speak to the Romulans alone,' she explained. 'They are Vulcan, and we are not.'

'I thought you considered yourself Vulcan?' McCoy asked, slipping into a seat opposite.

The woman shook her head gravely.

'I have never said that. I know I am human. My training, and my whole way of life is Vulcan, but my blood is red.'

'You really don't know what you're missing out on,' McCoy said earnestly.

Alison raised an eyebrow, her green eyes slightly amused. 'I am missing the benefits of being human just as much as you miss the benefits of being Vulcan.'

'Are there any?' he asked in surprise.

'There are never any disappointments, Doctor,' she said pointedly. 'There is no anger, no hatred. There are no negative emotions.'

'And no positive ones, either.'

She gave a muted smile. 'Doctor, I am quite capable of being happy – I simply don't broadcast my happiness to all and sundry. I know how to be gentle, and kind, and compassionate. I do know how to love, Doctor. Every Vulcan knows how to love.'

'Tell that to Spock!' he exclaimed.

'Even Uncle Spock knows how to love,' she said with a slight laugh, then her face became serious again. 'More than most. He is half human.'

'Uncle Spock,' McCoy grinned. 'That does sound funny. But if Spock knows how to love, then I'm a bricklayer.'

'Why did he chose me to accompany him on this journey, instead of a more reliable Vulcan acquaintance?' she asked him directly. 'I am his niece, but I am also human. A Vulcan would be the logical choice. Blood relationships should not affect his decisions. And what makes him befriend you above the four hundred and twenty eight others on your ship? You are an extremely emotional human. His friendship with you can only bring more trouble than gain. I do not intend to offend, but it is true. The friendship will be frowned upon on Vulcan, your emotions will hinder him.'

'Sometimes my emotions save him,' McCoy pointed out.

'Granted,' she nodded. 'But you must see that his friendship with you is illogical. As illogical as the constant arguments between yourselves. And yet I know he would give his life for you.'

'He would,' McCoy nodded with a smile. 'And I guess I'd do the same,' he admitted.

'And what of his friendship with Captain Kirk?' she continued. 'You cannot say he does not love the captain. His loyalty to Captain Kirk is deeper than any other. It is a strange relationship for a Vulcan to have. Sometimes a Vulcan may form such a friendship with another Vulcan, but rarely with a human.'

'Yes. I don't think you could explain that logically.'

'Doctor, would you come with me to my cabin?' Alison asked abruptly.

McCoy started, and looked embarrassed. 'Well, I – er...'

'I have already told you I am pledged to a male,' the girl reminded him gently, amused at his discomfort. 'We must do something about your eyebrows. Spock has explained what must be done. I have the necessary equipment in my room. We may as well put this time to use.'

'Oh – I see. I'm sorry,' he said with half a smile.

He followed her into her small cabin, and sat down in the chair she offered, facing a mirror above a chest of drawers. She swung the chair around a little, and knelt in front of him, picking up a small razor.

'If you will stay still?' she asked. 'The razor will not cut you, but I do not wish to remove any more of the natural hair than necessary.'

'I'll go with that,' he muttered earnestly, trying not to move his face as he spoke. 'I don't want you to accidentally sculpt my ears into points.'

Alison carefully removed the outer halves of McCoy eyebrows, then rubbed a cold gel over the shaved patches.

'This will prevent the hair from regrowing,' she told him, as she flipped the top back onto the tube.

'For how long?' he asked apprehensively.

'It should work for ten days. Now I shall apply the new hair.'

She turned him so his back was to the mirror, and began to apply hair cut from McCoy's head.

'When do I get to see?' he asked.

'When the glue has dried,' she said, her voice full of concentration. 'Please try not to speak. It makes your eyebrows move, and the line will be quite untidy. You do not wish to look like a Klingon.'

'God forbid,' he muttered, then bit his lip, and tried to keep his face very still. 'What are you doing now?' he asked, when she had put the glue away, and was mixing something in a small bowl.

'You will see when I have finished. Please be patient.'

'You're enjoying this,' he realised. 'God, you remind me of Spock.'

'Thank you very much,' she said, dabbing cold liquid onto his face from the bowl. 'Close your eyes.'

'What are you doing?' he insisted.

'Don't move,' she said firmly.

He felt something freezing being applied to his eyelids, and he flinched. Then there was a hiss of a hypo in his arm, and he jerked his eyes open.

'What was that? I prefer to apply my own medications, young lady,' he said sternly.

'It is merely kyandonine,' she informed him. 'It will give you the appearance of being anaemic.'

'I know what kyandonine does. I am a doctor.'

'Then you know there are no ill effects. It is only beneficial. It will give your skin the paleness of a Vulcan, and help to prevent such inconveniences as blushing.'

'And a flush will appear with a greener tone, I know,' he nodded. 'Are you done yet?'

'One moment.' She quickly and deftly restyled his hair, then sprayed something over it, and turned the chair around to face the mirror. 'There, Doctor.'

'Oh my God!' he exclaimed, staring into the glass. 'I look like a Vulcan! Even down to that awful hairstyle!'

'No, Doctor,' she corrected him. 'You look like a Romulan. A small translator and microphone concealed on your person will make your speech come out as Romulan.'

'I'm quite happy with speaking English, thank you very much.'

'You may speak English in front of the Romulans, if you do not mind being arrested and tried for espionage,' she told him reasonably. 'Now, it would assist the effect if you bathed in the skin colorant I applied to your face.'

'As long as it comes off afterwards,' he said doubtfully.

'It will wear off,' she nodded.

'Well, you did a good job,' he admitted reluctantly. 'It'll give me a shock when I look in the mirror tomorrow morning. But what about you? I thought you were a Vulcan when I first saw you, but that was only because of the way you walked, and acted. Your hair's the wrong colour, your eyes are the wrong colour. And we can't pass two people off as having deformed ears.'

'Although my hair colour is not as unusual on Romulus as it is on Vulcan, you are right that we cannot both pass as Romulans,' she agreed. 'I will not be leaving the ship at all. Therefore, I will not be seen by any hostile parties.'

'You mean you're going to sit in here baby-sitting Suaniak and Cikita while Spock and me risk our necks?'

'That is essentially what I mean, yes. I am not over-eager to see Romulus at close quarters. The view from the air was quite fascinating, but I have no desire to chance being held here as a prisoner for the duration of my life – however long that would be on a charge of espionage.'

'So what do you think of our Romulans, then?' McCoy asked, anxious to turn the subject away from the idea of capture and imprisonment.

'It is difficult to formulate an opinion when I have known them for so short a time. The girl seems pleasant enough. Haian. Haian reminds me of Sunek,' she said with a small, private smile, her voice becoming slightly dreamy.

'Sunek?' McCoy asked curiously.

'My pledged male,' she said, looking up at him again. 'The colour of his hair. The way his muscles move under his clothes. His height, and proudness of face. His face is very handsome. And he is so strong, and responsible. He will be a good mate. He will make a good father. And he is handsome,' she repeated.

'Sunek or Haian?'

'Sunek,' she said quickly. 'But they are both very similar – in appearance only. Sunek is ever so logical,' she sighed happily.

'And I think you're slipping,' McCoy grinned. 'It sounds like you're in love with this Sunek.'

Alison shook herself, and composed her face.

'Of course. He is to be my consort. We have a bond.'

'Well,' said McCoy, getting to his feet. 'I'm gonna go shock Spock. Are you coming?'

'I may stay here a little while,' Alison replied, thinking of the holodiscs of Sunek she had in her drawer. 'I have something to do.'

'Fair enough.'

McCoy went down the short corridor to the bridge, and stopped in the open doorway, waiting for a reaction. None came. Spock, Janas, and Haian were huddled together over one of the consoles, deeply immersed in discussion. Then Suaniak's crystal pulsed.

'Fascinating,' his voice said.

'Glad someone likes it,' McCoy replied, coming further onto the bridge.

Cikita, who had been watching the Romulans with distrust, suddenly jumped to her feet, and hissed, her tail lowering and flicking from side to side.

'It's only me!' McCoy protested. 'Stupid cat.'

He stepped forward, and the Rigilian cat cringed away, pressing down behind Suaniak's crystal.

'She has not been near me before,' Suaniak observed. 'It seems you have eliminated her fear of me, by producing such a disgusting image that she has forgotten – '

'How awful *_you*_ are,' McCoy finished. 'You know, you're the most insulting Vulcan I've ever met – except for Spock, when he gets in the right mood.'

'It is possible it is in the blood,' Suaniak replied reasonably.

'Very possible. She thinks I'm a Romulan,' McCoy said, watching the cat.

He was part annoyed, and part glad that the disguise was so good. He held out his hand to the cat, and she took in his scent, then began to rub around the doctor, her purrs filling the bridge.

'Doctor, I see you are transformed,' Spock noted, turning from the console. 'My niece did a good job.' He eyed McCoy's hair. 'But I must say, the style does not suit you.'

'Doesn't suit you, either, but I'm not complaining,' McCoy retaliated. 'Or actually, maybe yours does go with those pixie-ears, Uncle Spock.'

'Thank you, Doctor,' Spock returned with irritating politeness. 'Haian, Janas, I suggest we all retire to the ship's lounge. It is a better place for talking than the bridge.'

******

Kirk came into Scott's cabin and sat down in a chair with a thump. The engineer was just taking the stopper out of a decanter, and proceeded to pour a dark purple liquid into two glasses.

'Klingon whisky, sir,' he said, holding out a glass to the captain.

'Klingon?' Kirk echoed. 'Are you sure that's safe, Scotty? I thought Klingons ate things like blood and raw meat.'

'Aye, it's safe, sir,' he nodded. 'The prototype was given to me on one of those peace talks years ago, by the Klingon engineer. She was a nice young lass, and I swapped it for a bottle of my own Scotch. I analysed it thoroughly, and reproduced it in my own still, Captain.'

'Illegally?' Kirk asked with narrowed eyes.

'Aye, well...' Scott trailed off. 'It's good stuff, sir.'

'And did the peace talks work out?'

'No, sir,' he said ruefully. 'The Klingons fired on the ship as they went back into their own space. It was a ruse, sir.'

'I see,' Kirk said dryly, tasting a little of the drink. 'I must say, though, for all their warlike propensities, they make good whisky. What's it made from?'

'Well, sir. Malt whisky's made from malt. This stuff, sir – I dinna want to bring back bad memories, Captain...'

'What's it made from?' Kirk asked more firmly.

'Quadrotriticale. That's what gives it the colour, sir,' he explained hastily. 'If ye remember, the wee grains are blue. And it's the closest grain to the one the Klingons use. I call it – Well, I suppose it's a nickname really, sir – I call it Tribble whisky. We have to put a kind of muffler round it to keep the heat in, sir, and it looks just like a tribble. But it tastes just fine.'

Kirk lifted the glass to his lips, and took a larger sip.

'Scotty, this is better than Scotch,' he reassured the engineer. 'Despite the name.'

'Aye, well I'm glad you like it, sir,' Scott said in relief. 'What did command say about your request, Captain?'

Kirk leant back in his chair, trying to remember the wording of the message. 'Our request for patrol assignment along the Romulan border has been approved,' he smiled. 'Starfleet was impressed that someone volunteered – and they thought the _Enterprise_ would give the Romulans something to think about if they considered any sneak attacks.'

'Aye, well that's good news, sir,' Scotty smiled. 'Are ye still registering the locator signal?'

'They're stationary on the surface of Romulus. Not that there's anything we can do to help them while they're there. We can't take _Enterprise_ into Romulan territory.'

'And we canna send a message to bring them out.'

Kirk shook his head emphatically.

'The Romulans would pick it up right away, and find them. Anyway, I can't bring them out. They're on a mission. Spock explained all that, and I guess I have no right to interfere. What I'd give to find out how they're maintaining the shielding so well, though,' he said wistfully. 'There's not even a fluctuation. He said it was Suaniak – but maybe Spock doesn't even know how it works. He'd've let us know if he did.'

'Aye. Something like that could make our ships absolutely unbeatable in a conflict. There wouldna even be a conflict,' Scott shrugged. 'We could simply sit in the dark, and warn them off with a phaser shot from empty space.'

'I just wish I knew how long they'll be there,' Kirk said with sudden frustration. 'I can't stand sitting on my backside, helpless. Goddammit, Spock's supposed to be on leave,' he exclaimed. 'He's supposed to be resting, and avoiding stress, getting plenty of sleep. He's not well, Scotty.'

'Mr Spock did say that it was this Suaniak who did it,' Scott pointed out. 'He'll probably be fine now that Vulcan ancestor of his isna pressuring him.'

'Probably isn't good enough. It doesn't stop me worrying. And there isn't anything more stressful than sitting in a ship right in the middle of Romulus, waiting to be discovered by the Romulan police.'

'Except maybe sitting on the _Enterprise_ worrying about yer two best friends,' Scott told him. 'You should relax, sir, or you'll be going the way of Spock, and we canna have that. It wilna help him to have the captain of the _Enterprise_ collapsed when he needs him.'

'I know, Scotty.' Kirk tried a smile, and found it helped. 'Scotty, how about we begin a programme of drills on attack from cloaked ships?'

'I canna say that that sounds relaxing, sir.'

'Oh, but it is, Scotty,' Kirk smiled. 'Because we get the junior officers to feel important by running the drills, while we sit with our feet up in the recreation lounge, and play a few card games with a glass of Saurian brandy in the other hand.'

'That, sounds more like relaxation, sir,' Scott said approvingly. 'But I would prefer Scotch whisky.'

'Whatever you wish, Mr Scott. Whatever you wish.'


	13. Chapter 13

13.

McCoy shifted his uncomfortable position again in the _Alcyone_'s lounge. The sofa he sat on was top of the range – a luxurious, king-size, soft and relaxing settee, suitable for the best of ambassadors. It was the twenty stone cat on his lap that made sitting uncomfortable. The blood was beginning to leave his legs. He tried poking a finger into the cat's ribs to make it move, but the enormous cat barely felt the prod through its thick black fur. He sighed, and tried to bear it. At least the weight was shared. The other end of the cat was spread over Spock's lap, the tail obstinately curled about the Vulcan's neck, despite the amount of times he had firmly removed it. The Vulcan seemed to be bearing the pressure without even looking uncomfortable.

McCoy tried to focus on the conversation again.

'Your house is in a well built up area?' Spock was saying.

'It is a large estate,' Janas nodded. 'Very ordered. Everyone seems content there – but I – It only seems to symbolise the order of our lives. The lack of control over our own fates.'

'It is well enough to live in,' Haian argued. 'It is one of the better places.'

'And are the neighbours particularly curious?' Spock asked.

Haian shook his head. 'Not if you don't want them to be. You do not enter a conversation about another person's affairs unless they initiate it, or you are close friends.'

'So McCoy and my visiting will raise no questions?'

'We have friends and relatives to see us often,' Janas shrugged. 'No one would notice two others. Now our parents are reluctantly in on our secret, they would not ask questions, nor betray your presence. They are as us. They do not hate the Federation.'

'And the sister you spoke of,' Spock reminded her. 'She is in the forces.'

'It is not her choice. She doesn't want to kill,' Haian said defensively. 'It is the law that the eldest is taken by the government for the military service.'

Spock nodded in sombre understanding. Despite his father's disapproval of his chosen career, at least it had been _*his_* choice, not his planet's government.

'Janas, you seem the most unhappy about your life here,' Alison pointed out. 'Do you not like living here?'

'I like the country,' she said. 'I like the seas, and the forests, and the soil. It is a beautiful world. Even the majority of the people are likeable. They are not warmongers – we are only hot-blooded by nature. It is the governments I cannot stand. The control of our lives. The persistent warring with other places. The fact one cannot do as one wishes without being watched by someone. I would like to be able to travel to other worlds, but that is forbidden, and I may only see them as lights in the sky.'

'Janas is less of a Romulan than I,' Haian said with a shrug.

'I am not!' Janas exclaimed, her eyes flashing angrily, turning on her brother. McCoy silently admired the way her loose hair shone under the light as she moved. 'I love my country,' she protested. 'I have said all that. I am simply angry at our sister being taken - kidnapped - by the laws of the country. I resent the loss of our free will.'

'I did not mean that,' Haian told her gently. 'I simply mean that I think you could happily - or least willingly - leave our world and go to live on another. You would miss your home, but you could live your life away from it. I could never leave Romulus.'

'But we are not speaking of leaving Romulus,' Spock reminded them quietly, his level voice calming both of them. 'We should be discussing the transfer of Suaniak. It may take a little time to construct the object in which Suaniak will be placed.'

'A small object would be best,' Haian told him. 'I like your suggestion of a dagger. It could even be displayed on a wall without suspicion.'

'Sounds like a typical Romulan wall ornament,' McCoy grunted.

'Doctor, I have weapons mounted on my wall,' Spock reminded him.

'Yeah, and I always wondered why. I thought Vulcans didn't approve of violence - especially violence by the kind of knifes and blades you've got on your wall.'

Spock shifted under the great cat.

'It is a constant reminder, Dr McCoy, of the fact that there is some instinctual predator in each of us, and also what pain can be inflicted if that instinct is permitted to escape.'

'You mean like the time you smashed that Tyok guard's nose in with a solid wooden door because he hit little T'Si?' McCoy goaded him.

Spock exhaled, carefully controlling the response that McCoy was trying to provoke.

'I was merely trying to force the door of the cell, Doctor. It was a matter of life and death. That blow could have killed the child without immediate medical attention. I did not know I would injure the man.'

'That doesn't alter the fact that you damn well wanted to injure him.'

'Doctor, we are not talking about five weeks ago,' Spock said impatiently. 'I do not know how this discussion got started.'

'We were talking about daggers.'

'Of course,' he nodded. 'Which have little to do with the situation we found on Vulcan.' He turned more toward the male Romulan, trying to cut McCoy's face out of his view. 'Haian, it may take a day or more to complete the object. Then there will be a period of time for Suaniak to transfer his essence, as he transfers himself to the crystal. Then McCoy and I will visit your house to help you place the object, and give you final instructions. We cannot stay here in the ship all the time, exposing you to all the risks.'

'Sounds good to me,' McCoy spoke up. 'No, seriously,' he contradicted himself, shaking his head. 'I'd quite like to see what Romulus looks like, and what the people are like. I always suspected they have families just like us, care about people just like us.'

'You are correct, Doctor,' Janas nodded. 'The only thing which separates us are our beliefs.'

'That is often the only thing which separates people, or brings them together,' Spock noted. 'Maybe one day, the Romulan Empire and the Federation will be brought together.'

'And pigs might achieve warp speed,' McCoy grunted. He tried to shift on the chair again. 'Spock, will you get your damn lion off my lap?'

'Doctor, you must know by now that when the cat is so relaxed, she will not move for anyone, even myself,' Spock reminded him. 'You must extract yourself from under her.'

'She's crushing me,' he complained. 'I can't feel my legs.'

'I assure you, they are still firmly attached to your body, Doctor,' Spock told him unsympathetically. 'Alison, maybe you would like to join our guests and me while we begin the construction of Suaniak's housing.'

'It will be an interesting task,' she nodded gravely.

Spock, using his Vulcan strength, levered his end of Cikita off his lap, and slid out from under the animal. The cat purred a slightly louder purr, and settled down to sleep in her new position.

'Spock, you're not going to leave me here?' McCoy asked plaintively as the Vulcan made for the door.

'Your medical knowledge will be of no help in constructing the housing, Doctor.'

'What about this damn cat?'

'She will move when I prepare her dinner,' Spock said, letting the others go through the doorway, then following after them.

'But that's four hours, you blasted Vulcan,' McCoy yelled at the closed door.

Cikita opened her eyes slightly at the noise, washed McCoy's hand vigorously, then went back to sleep.

******

Janas and Haian pushed their way out of the thick Romulan wood first, followed by Spock, and a cautious McCoy. The Vulcan was carrying a small paper package, in the middle of which was a beautifully made Romulan-style dagger, the handle encrusted with semi-precious stones, in the right combinations to serve as energy converters, to convert normal power into an energy Suaniak could use. Inside the handle was concealed the tiny, complicated workings that Suaniak had given them instructions to build, which even Spock admitted he couldn't understand. He had protested that the housing could not possibly work, but Suaniak had transferred his essence - or a duplicate of his essence - they still weren't sure what it was - completely successfully, and his voice emitted from the handle only with a little less force than from the crystal on the ship.

Spock's eyes fell on a small, sleek shuttlecraft that was parked near the edge of a wide road. It looked remarkably similar to private, four-seater Federation shuttlecrafts that most families owned. This one was coloured a mysterious black, with red trimmings.

'There,' Haian pointed. 'That is our shuttle. It will take us back to our house.'

He unlocked the door, and invited McCoy and Spock to get up into the back seats. He got into the front with Janas, and settled back into the seat.

'You may find these crafts go a little faster than those you are used to,' he warned. 'I believe the speed limits on Romulus are more relaxed than many in the Federation.'

'Oh, we're quite used to travelling at high speeds,' McCoy shrugged casually, settling himself for the ride.

The shuttle's engines began to hum, as the energy built up, then Janas adjusted some of the readings on the steering console, and lifted off.

'It will only be a short minute's journey,' she said, accelerating so that the country flashed by too fast to be seen clearly.

McCoy grabbed tightly at the edges of his seat, trying not to look out of the windows. Spock's attention was on the land below, his sharp eyes more easily taking in the scenery at the speed they were going.

'You certainly are a skilled pilot, Miss Ztaran,' he said to the girl in the front. 'Not many can pilot atmosphere vessels at this speed, at this low altitude.'

'It's a knack,' she shrugged, looking over her shoulder at the Vulcan.

'Can't you watch where you're going?' McCoy asked rather faintly.

'There is an anti-collision sensor built in,' Janas told him lightly. 'We will not crash, I assure you.'

'I thought you said you were accustomed to these kinds of speeds, Doctor?' Spock asked him lightly.

'I said high speeds, not supersonic. I don't mind warp speed in a starship - but I do have aversions to the risk of being made into a jam sandwich between a tree and a hunk of metal.'

'There is no need for concern,' Janas reassured him. 'There.'

The shuttle hissed slowly to a stop, and settled down onto the ground before an average sized house, in the middle of a street of average sized houses. It all looked ridiculously normal.

'We are here,' she announced. 'And none of us are - jam sandwiches,' she pronounced the unfamiliar word with slight hesitation.

'I trust you have the small device I designed on your person, McCoy?' Spock asked before they got out.

'I wouldn't leave the ship without it,' he told him sincerely. 'I'm not having any Romulans scanning me and finding out I'm human. I attached it to a – a discreet area of my person. They won't find it.'

'Then you may get out of the craft,' Spock told him, jumping down to the ground. He walked around the shuttle to join to two Romulans. 'Haian, if you will show me an appropriate place in your house, we may begin to install the housing. After that is done, we need only remain on Romulus for a few days to be sure the device works.'

******

On the _Enterprise_, time seemed to be going at half its normal speed. Sitting and waiting had never been something that James Kirk had been fond of. When a warning light flashed on the bridge he sat forward in anticipation, rather than apprehension.

'Captain.' Sulu turned around from his sensors, a grimace on his face. 'I'm picking up a Romulan bird of prey, patrolling along the other side of the neutral zone. But it's not shielded, sir. They probably came out when they detected us here.'

'I guess they've got the right to protect their borders too,' Kirk said reluctantly, resisting the urge to put the ship on red alert. 'We can't do anything, Mr Sulu. Just keep an eye on it, and tell me if it does anything unusual.'

'Yes, sir. At the moment they're just cruising. Slowing down, sir,' he said. 'Now they've come to a dead stop, opposite us. They're just watching us, sir.'

'Well.' Kirk regarded the viewscreen, and gave a shrug. 'Let them watch. We're not doing anything.'

He leant back again in his chair. The presence of the Romulan ship may not have provoked any direct action – and that was probably best – but it least created some interest in the day.

******

Spock and McCoy chose to walk back to the wood alone. Haian was absolutely enthralled in listening to the tales of history that Suaniak was telling, and didn't seem to hear a word that anyone else said to him, and Janas was absorbed in tinkering with some irregularity she had felt in the hum of the shuttlecraft's engines.

'I hope you know the way back to the ship?' McCoy asked Spock anxiously. They were walking down a road completely unfamiliar to him. 'The shuttle got us here pretty fast.'

'I know the name of the forest it is in,' Spock said noncommittally, looking briefly to his left and right.

'But do you know the way back?' he insisted.

Spock looked back the way they had come. They had already walked a mile. His eyes seemed intently fixed on something for a moment, then he looked back.

'I am almost entirely certain of our route.'

'Almost?' McCoy repeated ominously. 'Oh, great! So we are - Spock, are you listening?'

The Vulcan was looking over his shoulder again, preoccupied with something in the distance.

'Spock?' McCoy asked again.

'I have a feeling, Doctor,' he said in a low voice.

'A feeling?' he muttered. 'Well, that's something new.'

'I am being serious, Doctor.'

Spock looked briefly behind himself again, then turned back sharply, quickening his pace until McCoy had to fairly jog to keep up. The doctor began to feel as if Spock was a worried parent, with him the small child, the Vulcan trying to get him to hurry along, but not wanting to alarm him with the full facts.

'What sort of feeling?' the doctor asked insistently.

'I think we should quicken our pace, and try to reach the ship with as much speed as possible,' Spock said calmly. 'But do not look as if you are hurrying.'

'How in hell do we do that?' he panted.

'Just keep this pace up. And do not look back.'

'Spock, is someone watching us?' McCoy pressed.

'I could not see anyone, but I can feel someone,' Spock said. It was obvious from his tone of voice that he was worried. 'We are being followed.'

'Spock, you practically admitted we were lost.'

'I know,' he nodded calmly. 'But in this situation, we must not lead anyone back to the ship. Do not panic, Doctor.'

Spock's sharp eyes searched the road ahead of them. His eyes fell on a man walking a little way ahead of them, on the other side of the road. He crossed over briskly, and McCoy followed. As soon as Spock reached the man, he stopped him, and drew him towards the hedge.

'Excuse me, sir,' he began. 'But we are lost. We are trying to make our way towards Jurani Forest.'

'Jurani Forest.' The man nodded, and pointed down the road. 'Carry on the way you're going, until you come to a wide intersection. Turn left, then - '

He broke off abruptly. A silently running hover-vehicle had swept up beside them, hemming them into the side of the road.

'Who are you?' he snapped, looking suddenly between Spock's face and McCoy's unusually rounded features. 'Why are the special police after you?' He stared at Spock's impassive face with sudden comprehension. 'You're a Vulcan! A Vulcan on Romulus!'

He suddenly tried to make a dash past the silent, ominous hover-vehicle, but Spock moved just as fast, grabbing his arm, and holding him immobile. McCoy just wished the police vehicle would do something – he wished someone would get out, or point a weapon at them – anything but having it just sit there like that, intimidating in its silence.

'Listen,' Spock told the Romulan quietly. 'If you give us away, you are in trouble too. I will tell them you are my contact. Do you understand?'

'Y-yes,' he nodded quickly, real fear washing over his face. 'I will help you. If I can.'

Spock heard the noise of boots hitting the ground, and a squad of Romulans in plain grey uniforms came around either end of the vehicle, pointing energy weapons at them with deadly accuracy. One of the officers came forward, regarding the three men with intense scrutiny. She was obviously the leader, with two red bands on the jacket about her upper arm. She turned her gaze solely on Spock.

'Explain,' she snapped.

Spock stared straight back, trying to act like a Romulan male. 'I don't speak to women when I don't know their names. Even women as beautiful as you.'

McCoy resisted showing his surprise at Spock's words – although he had to admit he was right. With her sleek, fitting uniform and hair pulled tightly into a long, straight ponytail, the woman looked stern, but highly attractive.

'Do not be insolent,' she said with a sneer. 'I am Commander Gauna. What are you doing walking along this road at this time of day?' she asked sharply.

McCoy cringed as Spock forced a rather sickly smile onto his face, and a shiver went down his spine as the Vulcan laughed heartily. There was no laughter in his eyes. Only a rather pained look.

'I was not aware of any curfew, Commander,' Spock said with apparent amusement.

'And you.' She turned abruptly to McCoy, her eyes narrowing on suspicion. 'Take that hat off.'

McCoy risked a glance at Spock, and the Vulcan lowered his eyelids once in a subtle nod. McCoy removed his hat carefully. The woman walked around to his side, then back in front of him.

'Your ears are blunt, like a kha dog's,' she said in disgust.

'Yes,' McCoy said simply. 'Is that a crime?'

'Why do you find it necessary to wear a hat to hide your ears?'

'It is embarrassing to have ears like a weakling human's,' McCoy replied icily. 'I have the right to hide my disfigurement, don't I?'

'You have the right. And you.' She turned her piercing eyes on the only true Romulan standing there. 'Do you know these men?'

'They were asking directions, Commander,' he said nervously. 'They said they were lost. I've - I've seen them near the Imperial Hotel in Duran. I thought they were holiday makers.'

'I see.' She turned back to Spock. 'Where do you live?'

'In the city of Ja-nia,' Spock said easily. 'As the man said - I am on holiday here. We are just out for a short stroll.'

'You are lying,' she spat suddenly. 'You are Vulcan, your friend is human, the Romulan is your contact, and you are all spies.'

A look of open surprise flashed across Spock's face, and his eyes widened noticeably. Then his face set expressionlessly.

'You have developed your mental powers,' he stated. 'You were probing my mind. How much do you know?'

'I know everything, Sanik.' She pronounced the name as if it were conclusive proof.

'No, you do not know everything,' Spock told her confidently. The thought of the false name had worked. 'You know very little, and it will stay that way.' He turned to McCoy, speaking rapidly. 'Doctor, she will try to probe your mind, but she is weak and undisciplined. Think of something that will occupy your head. A song, or – '

'Silence,' the commander barked, and Spock stopped in mid-word, acknowledging the wisdom of not provoking her anger any further..

McCoy quickly remembered an awful advert for tinned Andorian hanu beans, which had been pushed through the airways while he was on hold once trying to call someone. He had had to wait half an hour, with the advert repeating and repeating itself unmercifully. Now he thought of it, he couldn't stop repeating the jingle.

'Take them all,' the woman snapped furiously, staring at McCoy with a look of fury.

'The Romulan has nothing to do with this,' Spock said firmly. 'We were asking directions.'

She raised an eyebrow in a very Vulcan way.

'Really?' she asked sardonically. 'It was in your mind. *_You are in trouble too. I will tell them you are my contact.*_ It is nice to know that Federation spies will even betray their own.'

Spock's lips tightened. With McCoy's medication dulling his mind, he was finding it very difficult to screen his thoughts. At most, he could misdirect the woman.

'He is not – ' he began.

Her hand flashed out to slap him harshly.

'Silence.' She turned to one of the other officers. 'I suggest that you bind them all firmly. And you.' She turned to Spock. 'You are offensive to my intelligence, Vulcan. If you continue to offend me, I shall have you gagged, too. All of you.'

Spock suddenly found his hands secured firmly in binders by a strong Romulan man. The cuffs were joined to a belt that was locked around his waist. He glanced briefly at McCoy, watching him and the Romulan being bound in the same way. As they were all shepherded up into the back of the vehicle, Spock saw a black shuttle flash past that looked extraordinarily like the one Janas flew, but, wisely, it didn't stop. He had time to see it disappear into the distance, then a hand pushed his head down, and he stepped, bent over, into the back.

When the door closed, the three of them were trapped in a small, dark, bare compartment. A small slat of light came in from somewhere near the low ceiling. Spock's eyes utilised the small amount of light better than McCoy's could, but he couldn't see anything in the space apart from hard benches either side that were built into the walls.

'I suggest we sit on the floor,' he told the doctor softly. 'You would slip off the bench if the vehicle moved suddenly.'

McCoy sank down onto the floor and crossed his legs.

'This is great, Spock,' he began sarcastically. 'If you'd remembered the way back, then – '

The craft gave an unexpected lurch, and the Vulcan was toppled to the floor. He began working himself into a sitting position as the noises of the engines began to build, and the craft rose and sped off with an abruptness that threw all the prisoners towards the back of the compartment. The noise and smell of the engines filled the air, and McCoy betted that the Romulans didn't bother to expend effort on making prisoners' transportation too pleasant. He could feel the Vulcan beside him.

'Sorry, Spock,' he muttered. 'I can't blame you for all this. But how in hell did they find us? I thought Suaniak had it all covered.'

'He does,' Spock nodded. 'Likely it was simply someone who saw us on the road, and thought we looked suspicious. Perhaps if we were unfamiliar to them, and acting contrary to normal Romulan behaviour.'

'How much do you think she knows from your mind?'

'I shall find that out later, Doctor.'

McCoy licked his dry lips nervously. 'Spock, is the penalty for espionage always death here?'

'As far as I know, yes, Doctor,' the Vulcan told him calmly. 'And I do not believe the execution to be pleasant.'

'Is execution ever pleasant?' McCoy asked with deep feeling.

The Romulan made a derisive sound in the darkness.

'The penalty for a Romulan's treason is a far worse death than the one you will face,' he said angrily.

Spock let out a quiet sigh, and McCoy could visualise the Vulcan opening his mouth to speak patiently to the angry man. He guessed what Spock was thinking.

'If this woman can read our minds, she'll know you're not involved,' the doctor said firmly. 'That's what you were going to say, isn't it, Spock?'

'Correct. It is very unlikely that they will convict you of treason,' he reassured the Romulan.

'Oh yes,' the Romulan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 'So I will be free to go - when they have tortured me, and drained my mind of all I know. When we all have the brains of swamp-worms.'

'Oh, shut up and go to hell,' the doctor said wearily. 'I can imagine what'll be done to us well enough, without your morbid visions to help.'

'They say that hell is situated not very far from the interrogation rooms,' the man muttered back.

'Look, Romulan,' McCoy began. 'Do you know where we're being taken?'

'Probably the area headquarters,' he replied sullenly. 'I have heard that is where criminals are interrogated. They have all the equipment there. The torture rooms.'

'Will you stop going on like that!' McCoy exclaimed. 'It's probably just rumours anyway. And they won't torture you. You've got nothing to worry about.'

'Yes, but we will be conditioned before we are questioned,' he said bitterly.

'Conditioned?'

'Conditioned. They will condition us so that we know what to expect if we do not answer their questions. A sample of the pain to come. And as you seem reluctant to tell them what your foul mission is, I suggest you start praying for an opportunity to commit suicide before interrogation begins.'

'And I suggest you stop prophesying doom and gloom before I kick you,' McCoy said sourly.

The Romulan suddenly lurched towards McCoy's dim form, apparently trying to head-butt him. 'I would tear both you Federation vermin to pieces if I had my hands free. The police would have nothing to interrogate but small pieces of meat.'

Spock felt the belt around his waist suddenly lurch him to the side of the compartment, effectively separating the three prisoners. Unsurprisingly, the Romulan police were listening to every word they said.

'You will all shut up in there,' a male voice snapped into the compartment. 'Or you will be secured to the *_outside*_ of the vehicle until we reach headquarters.'

McCoy thought about yelling back, but decided against it. Instead, he began to struggle to remove the small scanner-fooling disc from its hiding place, so that he could swallow it before the inevitable search. That done, he leant his head back against the wall, unable to change position while the belt was fastened to it, and waited for the journey to end.


	14. Chapter 14

14.

The area headquarters were situated in a large, modern looking building, in the middle of city, but surrounded by a virtual moat of trees and grass, making the building into an island set apart from the rest of the city. The walls of the building were totally reflective - mirroring the sky and country around without a flaw. Spock wondered as they were marched towards it if the material was to act as deflectors against weapons rather than as simple decoration. The building was securely protected from escapes or unauthorised entry by lethal forcefields, transporter guards, and high walls.

The three captives were led down numerous, oddly set out corridors before reaching their destination. These walls were reflective too, to discourage anyone from firing a weapon, for fear the beam would glance back on them. Spock was remembering the route they were taking with his routine thoroughness, but the odd layout served its purpose with the human and Romulan, leaving them totally disoriented within a few minutes.

Commander Gauna was walking beside the prisoners, weaponless, but Spock didn't discount the squad of guards who walked in front and behind them, and the small security cameras set into the walls at regular intervals.

'I notice you have made it impossible to fire a weapon in here,' Spock remarked to the woman. 'Even the guards do not carry arms.'

'Do not mistake that for complacency, Federation spy,' she warned him. 'Every one of us is trained in fighting methods you could not hope to win against, and we also carry tranquillisers. I could have you unconscious within a second of any attempt at escape. The walls deflect energy beams, not tranquilliser bullets.'

'I acknowledge it would not be logical to attempt any kind of escape,' Spock nodded.

'I am glad. Tranquilliser bullets do not leave one feeling at all well – and neither do broken bones.'

'I take your point,' Spock nodded.

'Here.'

The party stopped, and Gauna pointed a device at a blank door. It opened to show a small, sparsely furnished room, and they were left with Commander Gauna and five strong-looking guards. The three captives were sat together on a row of hard chairs, three feet apart, their hands still cuffed to their waists. Unfastened restraining bands hung from the chair seats and backs. Gauna stayed standing, intimidating, above them. She paced up and down before them a few times, studying their faces, then stopped before Spock.

'Now. What is your name, Vulcan?' she asked him shortly.

'Why should I inform you?'

She smiled. 'No matter. I know your name is Spock. I did hear you all speaking in the police vehicle. You tried to fool me with your mind.'

'Do you blame me, Commander?' Spock asked with a raised eyebrow. 'It is not pleasant to feel another person probing your thoughts.'

'I'm not concerned with how pleasant it is. You will let me probe them now.'

'No, I will not,' Spock said matter-of-factly. 'Your mind is not disciplined. I would find very little trouble in blocking you. And there would be little point in trying to probe the doctor. After a period of meditation in the police craft, I can also block you from his mind. He will not stop repeating the jingle in his head.'

'He's right,' McCoy shrugged ruefully. 'I can't stop hearing that damn tune, even if I try.'

'So you see it is no use,' Spock told the woman. 'You simply do not have the discipline.'

The woman raised her hand and tensed her arm ready to strike, her eyes fixed on him as if daring him to say something. Spock sat impassive at the silent threat, which infuriated her even more, and her hand smacked into his face, twice.

'You are insolent, Vulcan,' she spat, holding the hand ready for another blow. 'That is not a worthy trait. If you continue speaking to me with such disrespect, you will find me becoming very angry.'

'I am speaking like a Vulcan,' Spock replied calmly. 'You cannot blame me for that.'

'I can blame you for whatever I like.' She lowered her hand, and regarded him. 'What is your rank in the Federation Star Fleet, Spock?'

'Lieutenant.'

McCoy flinched at the crack as her hand hit Spock's cheek again. Spock's only reaction was biological – a jerk of his head and the flushing in his cheek which later would become a bruise.

'That is a lie. Your rank is Commander. Please don't lie to me again. You do not know exactly what I know about you, and you do not know when I am asking a trick question. It will only make interrogation more painful, if we have to always push you to the limit to be sure of your answer. Your execution may go easier if you co-operate. But you realise, that when we have executed you, the Romulan government wishes to also execute you for a previous charge of espionage.'

'That does not scare me, Commander,' Spock said. 'You cannot kill me twice.'

'No, but we can take you to the verge of death once, then kill you when you are recovered. We can take you to the verge of death many times. That sentence is called Living Death. It is considered a much more severe penalty than the death penalty.'

'Are you like this to everyone, or just prisoners with their hands strapped to their waists?' McCoy asked the woman sarcastically. 'Don't you think it's a little unfair to hit my friend while he's powerless to defend himself?'

'Fair gets you nowhere, Doctor,' she said icily. 'There would be little point in striking the Vulcan if he could strike back. I do not wish him to break my arm. If the Federation always fights fairly, it will be a very short time before you are conquered, because you will find that devious wins every time.'

McCoy snorted in derision. 'We can be devious enough when we want to.'

'I am sure you can,' she nodded. 'This is my job, Doctor. I am paid to be cruel, barbaric even, if I can get answers. I find that pain usually persuades best. I can be as sweet, and pretty, and kind, and generous as I like, but I am not afraid to hurt a person.'

'That is quite evident,' Spock nodded.

'Thank you for noticing, Commander Spock,' she said with a small smile. 'I'll make it clear that I will hit you as many times as is necessary, whether your hands are tied or not.'

'Would you permit me one question?' the Vulcan asked.

'One.'

'What about my men, and my ship in orbit? What has happened to them?'

McCoy gave Spock a startled glance before catching on. The Vulcan was trying to find out if the woman knew about Alison, and the _Alcyone_. There were no men on the ship now they were here, and the _Alcyone_ certainly wasn't in orbit.

'You men and your ship are all impounded,' Commander Gauna told him, without a muscle in her face betraying her lie. 'And they will be interrogated after you are.'

'Lieutenant Stauk,' McCoy said, trying to sound convincingly worried, making Spock's lie even more believable. 'He has a blood condition, similar to haemophilia – only there is no cure for Vulcans. He can be cut – but if he's cut seriously he'll die.'

'I shall bear that in mind when I interrogate this Vulcan,' she nodded. 'I'm sure mental persuasion will be adequate. And you, Doctor. What is your name?'

'You may tell her,' Spock nodded.

'If you attempt to give him any more orders, I will gag you, and strike you,' the commander said plainly. 'What is your name, Doctor?'

'Dr Leonard McCoy. Not that it's any of your business.'

The woman raised her hand, and hit with the Vulcanoid strength that the doctor wasn't quite expecting from her. McCoy abruptly found out how Spock's cheek was feeling, and he glared at the woman, half stunned.

'He is not any part of this,' Spock said. 'I – have been ill recently. He came because he wished to watch over me.'

'He is here. That is enough. You did not tie him up and force him.'

'He came only in case I needed him - because of my illness.'

'Yes. I read in your mind that you tried to commit suicide. Or was that another lie?'

The Vulcan flinched visibly. For a moment McCoy saw the haunted look in his eyes that had been there in the days just before his suicide attempt, then it was completely gone.

'It was not a lie,' he said, with no hint of emotion.

'I thought that Vulcans were infallible,' she said, her voice betraying her curiosity.

'No one is infallible, Commander. Not even you, I am sure.'

The woman snatched at his wrist, and pulled the sleeve up. She traced along the deep scars with a fingernail, noting with interest that the Vulcan was deliberately looking away from the scarred arm. Then she turned the other hand, and saw the scars there.

'This was recent.'

'Not so recent. It has no relevance.'

'I decide that, not you, Vulcan. When I spoke of the attempt, you appeared disturbed. You reacted more than when I slapped you. Why did you try to take your life? It is not logical.'

'Spock's life is none of your business,' McCoy said through gritted teeth. 'Ow!' he exclaimed, as he was slapped again. 'This is getting repetitive.'

'Silence. Why did you do this, Vulcan?'

'As the good doctor stated. It is none of your business.'

The woman ignored his bluntness this time.

'As an interrogator, your weakness *_is*_ my business. I also saw a child in your mind. You are a father?'

'I have no children. The child was an orphan that I fostered for a short time.'

She nodded, looking thoughtful. 'I can see that these subjects pain you. There are not many things that can make a Vulcan break emotionally. I may use this later, when interrogation commences.'

'This isn't interrogation?' McCoy asked.

She laughed shortly. 'This is an interview. You will know when you are being interrogated, Dr Leonard McCoy. It is infinitely more painful,' she said ominously. 'Now, you, Romulan,' she said, turning to the scared looking Romulan stranger. 'You understand that treason is a crime that is not forgiven. You may as well know now that there will be no allowances, no softer treatments in exchange for information. You will be held for a indeterminate number of years, spent in misery and pain, of course, and then we will kill you, by Ka-nu-fala.'

The Romulan paled visibly. Some of the guards had sudden expressions of pity on their faces, and even Spock looked shaken at the strange word.

'You know what that is?' McCoy asked.

'You may tell him,' the commander shrugged. 'It is of no consequence.'

'The word has been distorted, but is recognisable as the name of an ancient Vulcan punishment. Kani-fa-hla,' the Vulcan explained. 'It is an extremely – slow – death. And extremely painful. I would not alarm you with the details.'

'But you will soon know them in full, Romulan traitor,' Gauna said harshly. 'What is your name?'

'I have done nothing,' the man said sullenly. 'These two spies have tricked you.'

The commander lashed out with her hand again, and the Romulan sprang to his feet with a snarl. He was promptly and roughly pushed back down by a guard, and the restraining bands were fastened across his chest and legs.

'Thank you,' the commander nodded. 'Hold him still,' she ordered the man. He put his hands firmly on the Romulan prisoner's shoulders, and the commander extended her fingertips towards the man's face. He shrank back from her, but was held still.

'You cannot invade his mind,' Spock said quickly. 'Not that way. You did not do that to either myself or McCoy.'

The woman glanced at him for a moment, then withdrew her hand.

'You are concerned about this man's mind? Why? You admit he is your associate?'

He shook his head. 'No. But I know what a crime it is to have a person take your thoughts in that way. You have the skill to search in his mind without invading it to the level of a full meld. You do not need to do that.'

'Very well,' she nodded finally.

Spock had suspected that, untrained as she must be in melding, the process would be as unpleasant for her as it would be for her victim, and that seemed to be true.

'If he is not a traitor, I do not want to harm him too badly,' she continued. She fixed her eyes on the Romulan's for a long moment, then shook her head. 'It is the truth. They stopped to ask directions. Of course, I am not sure that the Vulcan is not helping him to hide his thoughts. He will be conditioned like the others.' She nodded to a guard by the door. 'Take him to the conditioning cells. I will probe him again afterwards, separate from the Vulcan. I will also probe the human afterwards, by full meld.'

The female guard nodded smartly, and came across to yank the Romulan captive to his feet, and lead him out of the door.

'Now.' Commander Gauna turned her attention back to the two remaining men. 'We will continue.'

******

The two men were separated shortly after the interview for 'conditioning', whatever that entailed. The last Spock saw of McCoy after being registered and strip-searched was the doctor being led off down one corridor, while he was roughly pushed down another. There were doors at intervals along the walls, bare apart from Romulan numerals stamped above them. Spock saw he was being headed for the last of them all.

The blank door was unlocked and opened, and Spock looked with curiosity over the threshold into the wide, white cubicle before him. The room was square, four metres wide, the floor a distance of a metre below the level Spock was on. The door was set halfway up the wall, but he could not fathom why.

'In,' the guard behind him said, shoving him roughly forwards.

Spock stumbled over the threshold, arms out, expecting to fall. Instead, he spun into zero gravity. He flailed momentarily, trying to recover himself – but then the door closed behind him.

Abruptly, everything snapped off. The white room turned to a weightless, senseless void, where there was nothing but blackness. He couldn't taste the saliva in his mouth, or smell the air he breathed in through his nose. He couldn't feel his clothes against his skin. He couldn't even feel his body. He couldn't see anything but a black absence of sight. He was falling, and falling, and falling, spinning round and round in a never-ending vortex, although all logic told him that he was immobile apart from the slow drifting natural to his situation. But reason didn't seem to work here. His disciplines were slipping away. He was dizzy with the phantom spinning. He felt as if he was being suffocated, with no sense of the air entering and leaving his mind. A rush of utter, illogical panic rushed through him, and he began to scream. At least, he thought he was screaming, but he couldn't hear it, and he couldn't stop it.

******

Alison cautiously activated the viewscreen on the _Alcyone_, wondering who could be responsible for the incessant, urgent battering on the hull. Her eyes fell on the image of Tijanas Ztaran, her face muddy, clothes rumpled and dirty, and her hair loose and tangled. Her cheeks were practically green with effort. She seemed to be battering at the hull with a large piece of wood. Then she gave up, and leant against it, panting heavily.

Alison went quickly to the hatch, and opened it.

'Miss Ztaran.'

The woman cried out in fright, jumping away from the hull as if it had stung her. She spun around rapidly, and her eyes fell on Spock's human niece.

'Alison! You gave me such a fright!' she exclaimed.

'I assumed you were waiting for someone to open the hatch,' Alison said smoothly, holding out a hand to help the exhausted girl up the steps. 'Tijanas, what has happened?' she asked seriously, as the hatch closed behind her. 'You have been running. Has something happened to Spock or McCoy?'

'One second,' Janas panted, trying to regain control of her breathing.

Alison quickly led her into the ship's mess, sitting her at the table and bringing a glass of water.

'I was coming to see if I could take them the rest of the way home, and I saw them at the roadside,' Janas said between gasps. She finished the water, and Alison fetched another glass. 'Thank you. The police were there. The special police. Spock and McCoy, and some strange man, were all handcuffed, and were being put in the van. I don't know where they're being taken, but I guess it would be the headquarters at Duran.'

'We will consult Suaniak,' Alison said calmly, glad of her Vulcan disciplines to mask her dismay and fear. The last thing they needed now was panic or hysterics. 'Suaniak will be able to help them,' she told Janas firmly. 'Come.'

******

McCoy stepped out of the room he had been in, dazed and reeling from the terrible assault on his senses. His head ached unmercifully from the grinding, grating, whining noise that set his teeth on edge. His throat ached from acrid tastes and smells, his eyes ached from clashing colours and light, and his body ached from being surrounded by sensations of prickling and battering. He was half-marched, half-carried, barely aware, into a cell with two beds. He knelt there as the door closed, trying to focus his eyes to something keener than a misty blur. He could see enough to know that he was alone in the room.

His eyes fixed on the closest bed, and he began to stagger over to it. He pulled himself onto the low platform. Although the mattress was no more than a few inches thick, at that moment it was the most beautiful thing he had ever felt. He sank down onto it, lying still for a moment, assessing the condition of his own body and deciding that no actually injury had been done to him. Yes, the Romulans were very clever in that respect... He was absolutely undamaged. He could take repeated bouts of this torture without ever coming closer to death.

Repeated bouts of torture… He had no doubt that that would be in store for both him and Spock, and as a doctor, he would be powerless to help either himself or the Vulcan.

There was no sense in thinking of that now, though. He was exhausted, and for anyone else he would have prescribed rest. McCoy pulled the thin blanket over his head, and pressed his hands over his ears, trying to block out the memories of the sounds and sensations and let the comparative softness of the mattress surround and soothe him until he fell asleep.

******

At last Spock felt some sensation. Hands dug in under his arms and gripped his ankles, his body slung limply between them. There was an uncomfortable swinging motion, like being carried, then the slap of his limbs onto something solid, and the cold of a bare floor through the back of his shirt. The feeling faded again for a while, the sensory deprivation seeping back after the shock of movement.

Spock had no way of knowing how long he lay there in sensory blindness, but slowly feeling returned. He knew his fists were tightly clenched, and his muscles were like rock. Gradually he began to taste and smell the air that he drew in, then he heard the breaths, faintly, but increasing in his ears. After a long time of lying paralysed in the darkness, feeling the floor through his back, there was a gradual change to fuzzy, dim light, brightening slowly, until everything was clear and normal. Then he found he had a crippling, splitting headache, and realised his whole body was trembling erratically.

'It's okay, Spock.'

McCoy's face loomed over him, his expression a mixture of relief and worry.

'D-d-doc-' he tried to stammer, shocked by his lack of ability to make his mouth form one short word.

'It's okay,' the doctor repeated. The noise still made the Vulcan's ears ring. 'They put you in a deprivation cell.'

'I - I know.'

'You'll be okay soon,' McCoy promised. 'You probably adjusted some amount to the deprivation. You've got to get used to reality now. Just calm down.'

Spock moaned, and was shaken by a violent tremor of extra force. Coldness rushed through him for a moment, no matter now much logic he tried to summon to tell him that no temperature change had occurred, then he regained his voice again.

'Y-y-you?'

'Oh - they just kept me pinned up on the wall with gravity clips,' McCoy lied. There was no sense in Spock worrying about his condition. He had had longer to recover than Spock. 'They didn't expect a mere human to cause them any trouble. I swallowed the chip, Spock, but they were puzzled that I was human in your mind. They gave me a blood test. But they didn't find the chip.'

'I - I - '

'Try not to talk too much,' he urged him. 'Just try to adjust back to your senses. You're all tensed up. You need to try to relax.'

'I - I - I'm s-s-sor-'

'Don't be silly, Spock,' McCoy interrupted brusquely. 'They're designed to affect you that way. They're designed to screw up all your sensory inputs. Even Vulcans. It has nothing to do with mind control. It's to do with simple animal nature. You couldn't withstand it any easier than a human could. Or maybe not as easily, considering the total lack of reference or logic in those places.'

Spock looked down at himself, becoming aware that he was wearing different clothes to the Romulan costume that he had borrowed from Haian. He was now clad in a light grey overall. He managed to turn his head, and saw an alcove housing a waste dispenser, a toilet, and a shelf of the extra overalls. Spock could feel a warm flush of blood in his cheeks now, and knew he was going green. He tried to move an arm, and it flailed uselessly. He still couldn't control his movements, let alone his bodily functions.

'D-d-d - did I - I...'

'Goddamit, Spock!' the doctor exclaimed, trying to cover his unease at seeing the Vulcan so helpless. 'Don't be so damn embarrassed. Anyone would leave something in their pants after going through that. You know you can't control anything in there. You were in there for two days, you know. I think they thought a Vulcan'd need longer than a human. But you're okay now. You've got enough feeling back now to control yourself.'

Spock managed to nod his head with an effort, then another uncontrolled fit of tremors racked through his body, a moan bursting through clenched teeth.

'Just try to stop that awful moaning,' McCoy said irritably. 'It gives me the creeps.'

'I - '

'I'm sorry,' McCoy said more gently. 'I'm sorry, Spock. I've got a blinding headache…'

Spock struggled to speak, but the doctor slipped his arms under his body and began to lift him, and Spock's senses suddenly swirled again out of existence, as if he had suddenly gone down the dip on a roller-coaster. He flailed about wildly, crying out, then felt softness around him, enclosing his body.

'I'm sorry.' The doctor's voice was faint through the ringing in his ears, but getting closer. 'I thought you were ready to be moved. It's best you're on a hard surface when you're coming out of it, so you know you're still alive sooner, but I wanted you comfortable as soon as possible.'

The light was returning slowly and fuzzily, but Spock was furious with himself when he could only give McCoy an incoherent moan as response. He managed to move his hand enough to feel the sheets and mattress of the bed he was in.

'Th-th-th-' he tried again, then closed his eyes, trying to relax until his mouth would obey him. 'Th-the R-romulan,' he stuttered. 'W-w-w-'

'Same as you. Deprivation cell for two days. You might take some comfort from the fact you weren't as bad as he was. He's probably back in his own home now, being cared for by his own family. Poor guy. They finally conceded he had nothing to do with us. Spock, can you take some water? You should have something after two days in there, but it could make you sick if you're not ready.'

'Y-Y-'

'Can you manage it?'

Spock nodded his head stiffly, and McCoy brought over a cup, gently holding it to the Vulcan's lips so he could sip at it slowly. The cold sensation in his throat made him recoil at first, and spill the water, but at last he managed to drink the whole cup.

'Suaniak.' Spock was grateful he had at least got one word out first go. 'Alison.'

'I guess they'll be all right if the ship's all right,' McCoy assured him. 'Suaniak will find some way to take care of Alison – and your cat. Spock, just try to sleep for a while,' he said firmly. 'You can't do anything yet. You can barely move. Sleep will help.'


	15. Chapter 15

15.

When Spock awoke again, his head felt very much clearer than it had before. He tried slowly to sit up, but as he moved his head everything winked out for a moment, then spinning dizziness and nausea blacked out his eyes, and he fell back to the pillow. He lay still again, realising that as long as he kept his head still everything felt very much like normal. He could at least see and hear and feel without involuntary trembling gripping him now.

He turned his head to the side, very slowly and carefully, and looked around the cell. He saw McCoy hunched up on another bed, holding his head in his hands, obviously unaware the Vulcan was awake.

'Doctor,' he said softly.

McCoy looked up sharply, then blinked, as if the movement was far too fast for him.

'Oh, Spock,' he said with a weak smile. 'No, don't worry about me. I've just got a headache.'

'They did not simply pin you on the wall.'

'No.' He smiled ruefully. 'They put me in the opposite of where they put you. An assault cell. Not for as long as you were inside, but – it was pretty rough on a mere human… I thought you had enough to cope with recovering from your punishment.'

Spock closed his eyes briefly, exhaling in annoyance.

'I cannot understand why humans so frequently think that they must protect others from the truth.'

'Because if you were worrying about me, you would have insisted on trying to do stuff,' McCoy said pointedly, 'and it would've taken you double the time to recover.'

'I doubt that,' Spock told him dryly. 'I suspect it was more likely the strange, perverted human sense of heroics. Boldly putting aside your own personal discomfort so as to make yourself seem – '

'Of all the ungrateful, cold hearted reactions,' the doctor began. 'But I'd expect that of you. I suppose you'd rather I'd been lying moaning in my bed, leaving you lying in filthy, stinking clothes and without any kind of support when you – '

The doctor broke off, surprising Spock. It wasn't typical McCoy behaviour, to stop in mid-attack. The doctor looked across at the Vulcan, and shook his head.

'I'm sorry, Spock.' He paused. 'Spock, how do you feel, mentally? After that ordeal?'

Spock *_almost* _ allowed a smile onto his face. Here was the root of McCoy's abnormal consideration of his feelings.

'Perfectly well, Doctor,' he said tolerantly. 'Or as well as I was before I entered. I am not sure if that is the same thing.'

'You weren't just isolated from other people in there,' McCoy reminded him. 'You were isolated from your body, from all your senses. You must have had time to think pretty deep thoughts.'

'I assure you, Doctor, that my mind was more deeply immersed in irrational terror than any deep philosophical ruminations,' Spock said with a hint of amusement. 'I did not have time to consider the meaning of life. Besides, I am quite used to _*thinking deep thoughts_*, as you say, during meditation.'

'That's okay then,' McCoy nodded. 'It's just I don't think the Romulans would be any too pleased to find their prize spy in the middle of a personal breakdown.'

'I am not eager to repeat the situation myself,' Spock said grimly. 'The last few weeks were not the most pleasant of my life. I think I have you, Jim and my colleagues on the _Enterprise_ to thank for my recovery.'

'You did most of it yourself,' McCoy said, half embarrassed at his show of affection for the Vulcan. 'Especially once you'd got Suaniak out of your head.'

He was suddenly reminded that Spock's recovery would be pointless if they were about to be executed for espionage.

'Spock, are we going to get out of this?' he asked.

Spock tilted an eyebrow, and lowered his voice.

'While we were being put in the police hover-vehicle, I saw a shuttle fly by that was unmistakably the one owned by Janas. I recognised the distinctive red markings, and her driving style. She had the sense not to stop, but I am sure, with her sharp eyesight, that she saw us. I noticed she was extremely observant even at high speeds in that shuttle. She was going in the direction of the forest.'

'So she could warn Alison. But that won't help us, Spock. They won't be able to crack us out of – '

McCoy's words broke off in a tingle of gold that enveloped his body, setting off his memories of the feelings and sounds in the assault cell. He yelled a mixture of protest and renewed fear, but the sound was lost as his senses disappeared. Then he felt reality return, and he dropped to his knees on the firm, unmoving deck of _Alcyone_. Reality didn't feel much better. The transportation had awakened all the sensations of the assault cell. The soft carpet felt like sandpaper, the air felt thick in his throat.

'Spock!' he croaked, and his voice almost deafened him.

Spock was sprawled on the floor, all his senses suddenly dead, his arms and legs moving erratically. He was floating again in the deprivation tank. McCoy could hear an unintelligible garbling and moaning coming from the Vulcan's mouth, then another, softer voice cut through the noise. As the form of Alison moved into his vision, McCoy blacked out.

******

'Sir!' Sulu turned sharply from his sensors on the bridge of the _Enterprise_. 'Captain, there's a cylindrical object emerging from the Romulan Neutral Zone, sir. It came from the Romulan ship. It's under it's own power. Ten metres long, four in diameter. It looks like an escape pod, sir.'

Before Kirk could respond, Uhura cut in. 'Captain, I'm getting a message from that object. It repeats, 'Do not fire. Do not fire.' It just keeps repeating that, over and over.'

'Sir, shall I varn the phaser room?' Chekov asked Kirk, reaching a hand towards the intercom on his console.

'No!' Kirk said a little too sharply. 'No,' he said more softly. 'We don't know it's hostile yet. I'm not firing on anything until we're sure of our facts.'

'There could be a bomb in it, sir,' Chekov pointed out reasonably.

'No, Captain,' Uhura argued, pressing a hand to the receiver in her ear to hear the readouts more easily against the noises of the bridge. 'I register eight Romulan life forms, and no weapons. It's not a trick – unless it's a suicide mission. And I don't see why they should send eight people – or any people – to be blown up with their craft. It just wouldn't make sense.'

'Agreed,' Kirk nodded. 'They could just use a homing device and detonate the bomb from their ship. Uhura, can you put a channel through to – '

'They're sending another message, sir,' Uhura informed him. 'They're requesting urgent communication with you, Captain.'

'Good. Put it on speakers.'

'Aye, sir.'

Kirk squared himself in his chair, preparing for an interesting communication. Uhura flipped a switch on her console, and a woman's voice came out of the speakers to the whole bridge.

'Please. Captain of Federation Starship _Enterprise_. Do not fire. Please. Beam us aboard and destroy the ship. Please.'

'Unidentified Romulan ship,' Kirk responded. 'Why should we destroy your ship?'

'Please.' The voice was becoming desperate. 'There is no time. Please do as I say. We will not harm you. We have no weapons. I pledge with my honour – this is the truth.'

'Stand by,' Kirk snapped abruptly. He knew how important honour was to Romulans, and that a Romulan who pledged on her honour was to be taken seriously. He gestured for Uhura to cut the communication. 'Lieutenant, have a squad of armed men outside the transporter room, and eight inside, phasers set on stun, and wide dispersal beam. Get Scott to meet me there. And give those people permission to come aboard.'

Uhura nodded, and began to relay the message.

'Sulu,' Kirk snapped. 'Aim phasers on that ship and fire on it as soon as transportation is clear.'

'Aye, sir.'

******

Dr McCoy came around in the now-familiar bed of his cabin on the _Alcyone_, covered in warm blankets, and guarded over by a watchful Cikita. As his eyes opened fully, the cat got up, and stalked out of the room. A little later, she returned, followed by Alison.

'A regular little Lassie, eh?' McCoy asked with a grin.

'I do not understand,' Alison told him.

'Lassie was a dog, on a television programme of old Earth,' he explained. 'She tended to save people's lives, and catch criminals, and lead people to wounded cowboys. Things like that.'

Alison looked unimpressed. 'You are referring to the fact that Cikita brought me here.'

'That's right.'

She nodded. 'I see. She has been alternating between yours and Spock's cabins. She has been sitting mostly with Spock until now.'

'How is he?'

'First, how are you?' she insisted.

He gave her a weak smile. 'I wouldn't mind Nurse Chapel in here to administer something for a headache, stomach ache, and general all-over-ache.'

'I will bring a painkiller for you.'

'Thanks. That's me,' he said briskly. 'Now. How's Spock?'

A muted smile came onto the woman's face.

'He is protesting that he should be at the helm, not in his cabin.'

'He _*shouldn't_* be at the helm,' McCoy said firmly, beginning to rise.

'No, he should not,' Alison said, making the doctor sink back to the pillows merely by the expression on her face. 'That is why I have locked his door. I am considering deactivating the intercom in there. He still seems unsteady when he tries to walk. Cikita is angry with me, at the fact that she can no longer visit him.'

'You said, at the helm?' McCoy repeated. 'Are we in space?'

She nodded. 'Making our way slowly towards the Neutral Zone. There seem to be more than the usual amount of Romulan ships and scout-ships in the vicinity – maybe posted after you were discovered on the planet. I am sure they are curious as to how two spies managed to get onto Romulus without being intercepted in space.'

'How long have I been out?'

'Only for three hours. There was an interval of preparation before we left the planet. Tijanas appeared rather breathlessly outside the ship three days ago, saying she had seen you and Spock being apprehended at the roadside. She had been hoping to catch you to give you a lift back to the woods, and saw the police craft, and then you beside it, being bound and put into the back. She quickly came straight to the woods, landing her craft as near to the _Alcyone_ as she could, and ran the rest of the distance. She was quite frantic. She was afraid you would be killed. Suaniak had a little trouble locating you, and adjusting this ship's small transporter for the range, and to reach through the shields of the area headquarters, but we eventually solved the problems, and beamed you out.'

'What about Suaniak? I mean – the part of him that's staying here – I mean there,' he corrected himself quickly.

'His essence is successfully installed and working quite well.'

'You make him sound like a hot water tank,' McCoy grinned. 'I always thought he was full of hot something or other.'

'I would be careful,' Alison warned him seriously. 'He is on this ship too. I am sure he can hear what you say, Doctor, and we are reliant upon him for our safety.'

That statement made McCoy think, and he decided not to say anything about Suaniak for the rest of the journey.

'What about our two Romulan friends?' he asked.

'Tijanas and Haian were here to say farewell, but you and Spock were both unconscious at the time. Suaniak on Romulus will make sure they do not come to harm from the police. No one will know we were linked with them.'

'I missed saying goodbye to Janas, then?' McCoy asked in disappointment. 'Pity. She and her brother were okay, for Romulans.'

******

Kirk stood in a transporter room that seemed crowded with red-shirted security guards, all aiming phasers at the transporter platform. Scott was behind the transporter console, ready to energise on Kirk's word. The captain looked around at all the alert, distrustful security guards.

'All phasers on stun. I don't want any of you to shoot unless you are threatened,' he said very clearly. 'I want no violence, and I want no rough treatment of these people just because they are Romulans. They are not spies or prisoners of war until I say so. They are to be treated with respect and tolerance, unless I say otherwise. Understood?'

The tension in the room seemed to clear a little, and the uniform answer from the men and women came; 'Understood, sir.'

'Scotty, commence beaming,' Kirk ordered quietly.

'Aye, sir,' Scott nodded, activating the transporter circuits. 'We're locked onto the eight o' them, sir.'

Kirk watched the transporter chamber with interest, as the humanoid forms began to take shape in gold sparkles. They were all close together, and hunched up, as if they had been cramped in the escape pod. As the beam solidified, Kirk could make out five women, and three men. They began to separate and stand up properly as the beam released them, and one of the women stepped forward. With her neat brown hair, serious face and pointed ears, she looked so much like a Vulcan that Kirk was taken aback.

'Stay up there,' he told them all softly. 'Just until this is sorted out. Scotty. Their ship.'

Scott activated the transporter room viewscreen, just in time to see a blinding white flash. 'Gone, sir.'

'Now.' Kirk turned back to the woman. The others on the platform were obviously deferring to her. 'Just what is this? Who are you?'

The woman brought her hand to her chest, and extended it to Kirk.

'Centurion Sanah Ztaran,' she said crisply. 'We are refugees from the Romulan Empire. We transfer our allegiance to you, Federation captain.'

'My name is Kirk. You – are refugees?' he asked slowly, hoping he had heard wrong.

'Yes, sir. We volunteered for a suicide attack force. By destroying our ship, we will not bring shame on our families. Our ship will think we were killed in combat.'

'But why are you leaving them?' Kirk asked her in a bewildered tone.

'Sir, none of us were voluntary members of the Romulan fleet,' she explained. 'We were taken by the law that the eldest must join the services. We are all peaceful people, and we do not wish to fight. We see that the only way to do this is to leave the Empire, or die. We chose the more favourable alternative.'

'That does sound like what I'd do,' Kirk admitted. Volunteering for Starfleet was one thing, but being conscripted was a different idea.

'We are all intelligent,' she continued. 'We all specialise in certain areas. Hanan is a physicist, Gahnu a physician. Bian would be a brilliant artist were she was not in the fleet. She also composes music. I – I must say – possess quite a genius for engineering. I have got far in designing more efficient warp drive engines – and the plans would of course, belong to the Federation now, not the Empire.'

'Don't you feel any sense of betrayal towards your people?' Kirk asked with surprise. 'It seems as if you might not have much loyalty to anyone. You could betray the Federation just as easily.'

'I feel a loyalty to my people,' she said with a sudden fierceness that showed just how much she had been controlling herself before. 'I love my planet. I love my family, I love my parents and brother and sister. I am leaving behind much. We all are, and we know life will be very much different here – but we will be free. We will be able to chose our own careers, our own associates, our own lives.'

Her proud brown eyes looked as if they were about to fill with tears, and Kirk was suddenly struck with the feeling that this woman, no matter how mature and controlled she might seem, was torn terribly by what she was doing. He also saw she was sincere in her wishes. That she showed such emotion at leaving her home and family – her entire world – proved that.

'But do you realise quite what you're doing?' he asked her. 'I can grant you asylum, of course, and you'll probably be granted the right to stay – since to return after such a request would be certain death. But you would all face a life of mistrust. No one trusts Romulans easily.'

'Not even Romulans. But identities can be changed,' she explained reasonably. 'Histories can be falsified. We would only be known to the officials – and trust can be earned. We would not betray you – since to betray you would also be to die – or to face life in a Federation prison.'

'It all sounds - logical,' Kirk admitted reluctantly.

'Yes, Captain.'

'And I can't send you back now.'

'No, sir. I do have another reason for leaving – and I would like to see one of your doctors, if I may?' she added rather timidly.

'Is your illness infectious?' Kirk asked quickly, with a note of alarm.

The woman gave a slight smile. 'I certainly hope not, Captain. I do not think all the women on your ship would be pleased with me if it was.' She brought forward one of the three men. He was the tallest of them all, and looked extremely proud and honest. He looked extremely Vulcan too. In fact, Kirk thought, most of the eight looked quite Vulcan.

'This is my fiancé, Reian,' she explained. 'And I believe I we are expecting a child. Contraceptives are law on board the ship, and if it were discovered, we would be forced to have the child terminated.' Her eyes suddenly became panicked. 'You will not do the same? You will not kill it, or take it when it is born? You will not separate me and Reian?'

'We cannot allow that,' Reian put in, stepping protectively closer to Sanah. 'The child is ours and we belong to each other.'

'You won't find an argument from me,' Kirk promised. 'We don't force anyone to leave or keep their own child, we don't split couples up – and no one has the right to terminate the pregnancy without your consent.'

The woman sighed, and her hand tightened on Reian's. 'I thank you, Federation captain.' She gave a small smile. 'So you see, you are saving a life by taking us in. If – ' Her voice suddenly faltered again. 'If you take us in. Do we have asylum, sir?'

'I guess so,' Kirk smiled. 'I think I'd be the most cold hearted captain in the galaxy if I wasn't affected by that story. I officially grant the entire party asylum aboard the _Enterprise_. Lieutenant-Commander Scott, you are witness to this.'

'Aye, sir,' Scott said, still looking stunned.

'I am sorry for my outburst before you,' Sanah Ztaran told Kirk. 'It has been extremely stressful – just planning this, let alone carrying it through. We did not know if we would live.'

'You don't need to worry any longer, Miss Ztaran. Scotty, assign them all quarters – and – ' He turned back to Sanah. 'I'm afraid you'll have to be under observation, by security guards, when you're in public areas.'

'That was to be expected, Captain,' she nodded gravely. 'Thank you.'

'Come this way then, Miss Ztaran,' Scott told her, putting a hand to her elbow, and leading her out of the transporter room. 'You say you were developing plans for a more efficient warp drive, lassie? Now, if I provide the paper, you could jot down a few of your ideas, let me look over them. I have quite an interest in that area myself...'

******

Spock got up out of bed again slowly, and walked back towards the door of his cabin. He closed his eyes for a moment as everything threatened to wink out once more, then he steeled himself, and reached the doorway. He lent against the frame for a moment, then raised a fist, banging on the door.

'Alison!' he called loudly. 'Alison, you should not be piloting my ship. You are not an experienced pilot. You do not know this space.' He paused for a moment, then tried again. 'Alison Grayson, you will let me out of here and onto my bridge at once. I am aware that my calls can be heard on the bridge. ... Alison, my mother would be deeply disappointed with your behaviour.'

Spock fell silent, listening as footsteps came down the corridor and approached the door.

'I think your mother would be pleased I am taking care of you, Spock,' Alison's voice said firmly. 'If you do not go back to bed, I shall inform her of your behaviour. As for my piloting experience – I am sure you are not too familiar with this space yourself. I have my licence to fly ships such as this, and Suaniak is taking care of us.'

The footsteps moved away, and Spock heard the bridge door swish open and closed.

'Alison!' he called again.

There was a faint, but angry call from somewhere down the hall.

'Spock, if you don't shut up, I'm gonna come down there and personally sedate you with a blow to the jaw! I've got a grandaddy of a headache, and I'm trying to sleep! Get to bed. That's a medical order.'

Spock pressed his mouth to the door.

'Yes, Dr McCoy,' he said with an eyebrow half raised in amusement.

He returned to his bed, and sat down. It took him a moment to realise that he was finding lying on the soft mattress infinitely easier on his deprived senses than standing up. He rested his head onto the pillow, and closed his eyes.

******

Spock's eyes snapped open again at a noise in his cabin. It was so slight human ears would not have heard it. He turned his head sharply, to see someone setting a cup down very gently on the cabinet by his bed, obviously trying not to wake him. He waited for her to put the cup down before he spoke.

'Tijanas Ztaran.'

She leapt back a literal foot, then stepped until she was pressed against the wall.

'I am sorry,' she began. 'But I couldn't – So I had to – And I did – and I'm here.'

'I can see you are here,' Spock remarked dryly, sitting up. 'Maybe now you would calm down and tell me first, why you are here, and second, how you come to be here?'

'I – '

'There is no need for fear. There is a chair by the wall. Bring it over to my bed, and sit down.'

The girl nodded, hurriedly going to the armchair and pushing it over towards his bed. 'I looked in, and saw you were asleep,' she explained. 'So I went into the galley and made you a cup of your Earth drink - made from dried leaves. It is called tea?'

'That is correct.'

Spock picked the fragile china cup up and held it between his fingers, letting the heat come through into his hand. He took a small sip.

'Thank you. It is refreshing. But why are you here?'

'This is the only chance I'll ever have,' she said earnestly. 'I explained everything to Haian, and my parents. I want to be able to travel, and see, and speak my thoughts.'

'So you stowed away on my ship?'

'Just before you took off. I said I would leave on my own – Alison was very busy with the controls. But I didn't get off. I'm afraid your empty storage space is full of my possessions.'

'But how did you get your belongings on board?' Spock asked curiously. A stowaway was one thing, but a stowaway with all her worldly goods on board was quite another.

'Well – Suaniak helped me,' she explained. 'He said it was destined that I would join you, and he believed I should join you in comfort. He said he knew I'd come with you from the beginning. He transported all my belongings from my house. I hid in one of the empty cabins. I've been hiding there for a day. I didn't want to be taken back.'

'We will not take you back now, Tijanas,' Spock reassured her. 'But what of your family? If it is discovered you have defected – that you have become a traitor to the Empire – will they not be forced into ritual suicide?'

'People disappear,' she said, looking very much as if she did not want to think about that alternative. 'The authorities will search, and find nothing, and the case will be closed. They will say that I ran away, and do not want to be found, or I was murdered, or killed by a phaser. I will be able to know things about my family through Suaniak. I am only sorry I could not speak to my sister – but she is in space. She was going to be married, and I had promised I would be with her...'

'I am sure she will understand, Janas,' Spock told her softly.

'I hope so. Do you promise you won't take me back?'

'We have come too far now. We would not risk everything simply to return you against your will. And I could not throw a distant cousin off my ship, could I?' Spock asked her comfortingly. 'We are related.'

'It is a very distant relationship.'

'But you are still of my blood. I must thank you, Tijanas,' Spock said sincerely. 'When you passed us on the road, you acted well. If you had stopped, or even slowed, you would have risked your whole family being killed, along with yourself, McCoy and me. I must thank you for going straight to this ship and telling Alison what you saw. You displayed excellent rationality.'

'Would I make a good Vulcan?' she smiled.

Spock raised an eyebrow. 'It is evident that you love emotions far too much for that. You must not try to make yourself Vulcan, Janas,' he cautioned her. 'You are not Vulcan. Simply learn our principles, not our emotional disciplines.'

'I would not want to give up love, and happiness,' she agreed. 'I love to play music.'

'You play an instrument?'

'I play three instruments,' she nodded.

'Those in the Federation would be interested. There are not many Romulan instruments heard there, and certainly not played by Romulan musicians. We will play together sometime. You have heard my lyre. But now, I must ask you a question. Tijanas, did you unlock my door when you came in?'

'Yes. I had heard you calling,' she half laughed. 'And I am not letting you out. I can see you should not be in the middle of a bridge, in the middle of flashing lights, and talking, and stress. You should be resting all your senses after the deprivation cell – just as McCoy is.'

'Does he know you are here?'

'I spoke to him briefly. He heard me walking in the corridor, and opened his door and saw me. He promised he would say nothing until I spoke to you.'

'If you will not let me out, will you do something for me?'

'Of course.'

'First, inform Alison that when we are clear of the neutral zone, she should change course for the _Enterprise_, and send a message to Vulcan, informing them of our success. Second, you must tell her that if she does not put my intercom back on line, and leave my door unlocked, I will have her arrested for piracy. Cikita is ruining the carpet by scratching at the door, and I wish to speak to Suaniak. You may tell her I will not attempt to get up until we rendezvous with the _Enterprise_.'

'I shall tell her,' Janas nodded solemnly, going to the door. 'And I shall let the animal in. I believe she is mourning for you.'


	16. Chapter 16

16.

Kirk sat staring at the viewscreen before him, eyeing the distant blip on the screen that was the Romulan ship. He didn't think it would dare to cross the neutral zone and attack, but he still wanted to be on guard. He glanced up to see his chief engineer standing by his chair, looking far more cheerful than Kirk felt.

'Scotty, why do I suddenly feel inundated with over-emotional Romulans?' he asked.

'Probably because we are, sir,' Scotty grinned. 'I've given them all cabins, and sent the young lady along to sickbay with her fiancé to see a doctor there. They should be finished just about now, Captain...' he said in a hope, wheedling tone.

'Go on,' Kirk grinned, nodding his head towards the bridge exit. 'Go discuss your warp engines with that woman. Just try not to let out too much about our ship until we're totally sure about them.'

'Aye, sir. Thank you, sir,' Scott beamed, making for the lift. He disappeared through the doors with a bounce in his step.

'Captain, something is uncloaking directly ahead of us!' Chekov said urgently from the science console as the lift doors closed. 'Sir, I am now registering it on the sensors as a small private ship! Coming at us from the neutral zone.'

'Small private ship,' Kirk echoed. He suddenly felt as if everything was coming together at last – or coming home, at least. 'We haven't been monitoring... Uhura?'

'Yes, sir,' she nodded. 'I read the locator chip. It is the _Alcyone_, sir. They're requesting permission to dock in the shuttle bay.'

'Put Spock on,' he urged her.

'It's not Mr Spock, sir. It's a woman.' She listened briefly to her earpiece. 'She says her name is Alison Grayson. She says she's Spock's niece.'

Kirk jumped up to the communications panel with a rush of adrenaline. He could think of multiple reasons why Spock wouldn't be piloting his ship at this critical time, and none of them were good.

'Is Spock hurt?' he snapped.

A soft female voice came through the panel. 'No, Captain Kirk. Commander Spock and Dr McCoy are simply resting. We may speak of it in more detail when we come aboard. Do we have permission to dock?'

'Of course! I'll signal the shuttlebay now. I'll be down to meet you, Miss Grayson.'

'Romulan ship coming out the of the neutral zone and de-cloaking!' Sulu snapped urgently. 'I read an energy surge. They're powering up their weapons.'

'Shields up!' Kirk ordered instantly. 'I'm sorry, Miss Grayson,' he said into the intercom. 'You're going to have to sit tight. There's a - '

'I heard,' the woman replied tautly. 'Good luck, _Enterprise_. Grayson out.'

'Paying us back for destroying their escape pod,' Kirk muttered. 'Well, they're - '

'Firing on the _Alcyone_, sir,' Sulu cut across him. 'They haven't had time to put up that cloaking, or their shields.'

'What damage do you read?'

'Their engines are still at full power, sir. Their shields are going up now.'

'Give the Romulans a warning shot, Sulu. Uhura, open a channel to the Romulan ship.'

'I've been trying to raise them,' she said, having anticipated his order. 'They absolutely refuse to answer.'

'Then we have to fight,' Kirk said simply, sinking back into his command chair.

******

The first shot came as Spock was just getting up out of his bed. The whole wall of his cabin buckled, and shook, throwing him onto his face on the floor. For a moment he didn't know what had happened, not knowing about the hostile ship outside, then he reasoned logically that they were under fire, and it most likely originated from a Romulan ship. Possibly it was a confused Federation ship, but unlikely. He blinked, and shook his head, his first thought being that he should get to the bridge and take over from Alison. Then a terrible noise caught his ears. It was a long, drawn out, pain-filled miaow. Cikita had been lying right by the wall. Now there was a thick trail of blood over the floor, and she was crouched in the corner, yowling horribly. As Spock got to his feet to go to her the noise subsided, and she slipped flat to the ground.

******

McCoy staggered out of his cabin almost as soon as he picked himself up off the floor. The lights in the corridor outside were flickering dimly, but they came back to full brightness as he reached the door. He could hear some sort of inhuman screaming noise, and, thinking of Spock, dashed towards the Vulcan's room. He slowed when he saw Spock standing in the doorway to his cabin, keeping a hand on the doorframe in case the ship rocked again.

'Doctor, I need your assistance,' the Vulcan said as McCoy reached him. His face was unreadable. There was blood all down his front and on his face and hands – but this blood was a deep magenta, not green or human red.

'Are you hurt?' the doctor asked quickly.

'No, not at all, Doctor. Please, come in here,' he said, his voice beginning to be tinged with urgency.

McCoy stepped through the doorway. The floor was smeared with the purple blood - Spock had obviously slipped in it. He followed the trail with his eyes. Cikita was huddled in a corner, conscious, but with blood pouring from somewhere in the chest region. McCoy couldn't see the wound through the thick fur. He rapidly adjusted his medical tricorder, and held the scanner out to the cat. He began to step forward, but Spock's hand held him back.

'She will not even let me near her, Doctor. She is terrified.'

'Did you see what happened? How was she hurt?'

'There was confusion after the phaser shot. I only saw that she had been hurt.'

'Spock – I'm not a vet,' McCoy began slowly. 'I'm not familiar with the physiology of cats – especially not Rigelian ones.'

'You treat many different life forms,' Spock reasoned quietly. 'This is simply another different life form.'

'There's terrible bleeding from her chest,' McCoy said, trying to make the Vulcan understand. 'There must be major blood vessels damaged. She's having trouble breathing, she's in pain, and she's scared – she's probably in shock.' He began to look through his kit. 'Spock, I'm going to have to put her down.'

'No.' Spock spoke very calmly, but the doctor could hear the emotion behind that single word. The Vulcan pulled the doctor's hand away from the drugs in the kit, and held it there firmly. 'The wound is not fatal – not if she is treated. If she were human – or humanoid – you would refuse to leave her.'

'But she's *_not*_, Spock,' McCoy said gently but firmly. 'She's a cat. She's scared. She doesn't understand that I can help her, and she'd sooner kill me than let me within a foot of her.'

'I have had to make this decision before, Doctor, with an animal I owned,' Spock said, with an odd tone to his voice. 'Then, I had to let it die. But Cikita is not fatally wounded. I will not let you take her life. You can sedate her, and then you can help her.'

'I can't sedate her without getting close enough for her to rip me apart,' the doctor insisted, his voice roughening. 'A phaser stun would kill her in her condition. Spock, it'll be quick. One short phaser blast. She won't suffer.'

'What would you sedate her with, Doctor?' Spock asked, his face blank.

McCoy pulled the hypo out of his kit. 'Just a shot of this. But I couldn't get close enough.'

'No. I agree that *_you* _could not.'

Before McCoy could react, Spock had snatched the hypo, and pushed the doctor out of the room. The doctor stumbled back into the corridor wall, and by the time he regained his balance, the door was closed and locked. The ship lurched again with another shot, throwing him against the closed door. He took advantage of the position to raise his fist and pound on it furiously.

'Spock, open the door,' he yelled. 'You won't be able to get near her!'

Then he caught sight of Janas standing just outside the bridge, clutching at the wall to keep herself steady. She let go when she saw McCoy, and stumbled down to join him.

'Doctor, what is happening? Alison told me to leave the bridge. I know there is one of our – I mean – a Romulan ship out there.'

'And it's firing on us,' McCoy snapped. 'What happened to Suaniak's shields?'

'He lowered them when we reached Federation space. We were about to dock with your vessel. When the ship was first hit, I think the crystal was made unstable. Alison says she is working to repair a connection.' She looked towards the closed door that McCoy had been pounding on. 'Is Spock in that room?'

'Cikita's hurt,' he nodded. 'She'll tear anyone to pieces if they try to get near her, but Spock won't let me put her down. He's trying to sedate her himself.' He beat on the door again. 'Spock!'

'He will not open it,' Janas stated. 'If Vulcans and Romulans possess the same singleness of mind.'

'He does,' McCoy said grimly. 'He'll sedate her, or get killed trying.'

******

Spock locked the door, and turned toward the great black cat in the corner of the room. Even with no one to see him, he kept his face absolutely calm and composed, but he couldn't stop the gnawing anxiety in his chest. He clenched his fists very tightly, then relaxed them, and took a deep breath. He took one step forward, and the cat who would give her life for him bared her teeth and growled.

'Cikita,' he said softly, speaking in Vulcan. 'I will help you. You know you need not fear me.'

The ship suddenly bucked violently, and an extra surge of blood spilt onto the floor. The cat snarled, then her head slipped back to the floor, and she lay still, watching the Vulcan warily. Spock knew that if he didn't sedate her soon, the loss of blood would make her pass out, and it would be too late for McCoy to do anything. They had no blood for transfusions.

'Cikita,' he said again, using all the force of his mind to try to calm her. He took another step. 'I am Spock. You trust me.'

Her growling reached a high pitched whine, warning him not to come any closer. Spock couldn't help the hurt he felt at her intense distrust of him. She would usually let him come as close as he liked, let him do whatever he liked near her.

'No, Cikita,' he said in a low, calm voice, bringing himself closer, and crouching down. 'I am Spock.'

He reached out a hand to one of the outstretched paws, and stroked it gently, inching his way forward. Her eyes followed him. He tried to reach his hand towards her shoulder, where he would have to administer the shot. To Cikita, it was too close to the wound in her chest. Her head lifted an inch. As she lunged forward with the last of her strength, Spock thrust the hypo at her shoulder. The hypo released, and her teeth sank into Spock's arm at the same moment. The cat slowly slumped back to the floor, and Spock reached a hand to stroke the glossy fur of her head and ears.

'Sleep, Cikita,' he told her softly. 'When you wake, you will be well.' *_If you wake_*, he added silently. He leaned back against the wall, and raised his voice. 'Computer, open the door.'

The door slid open, and Dr McCoy rushed in, already putting his hand into his medical kit in anticipation of the injuries.

'Spock?' he asked.

'I would welcome your assistance now, Doctor,' the Vulcan said faintly.

'Suaniak has shields up,' Janas broke in quietly, looking through the doorway with her hand still on one of the ship's intercoms. 'But we cannot yet dock with the _Enterprise_. He is working on that.'

The doctor nodded briefly, but his attention was on Spock.

'You're hurt.' McCoy stepped forward quickly. It took almost all his strength to prise the unconscious cat's jaws open, and ease Spock's arm out of the mouth. His shirt sleeve was punctured with a neat row of tooth marks, each hole surrounded by a widening stain of green blood. 'Let me see to your arm.'

'No, Doctor,' Spock said quietly. His hand was still caressing the silky black ears. 'Cikita stopped short of biting down in earnest. You will attend to her first. I'm sure Miss Ztaran is capable of applying a bandage and antiseptic.'

'Spock, I've never operated on a Rigelian, let alone a feline Rigelian.'

'Rigelian physiology is very similar to Vulcan,' Spock said, aware that he was quoting from another time. 'She will die if you do not operate.'

'And it's fifty-fifty she'll die I do,' McCoy insisted. He hated giving people false hopes and then having to let them down.

'Then she has a fifty percent chance of survival if you do,' Spock reasoned impassively. 'There is a table in the sickbay. I will carry her there.'

Spock gently eased his arms under the lion-sized cat, and straightened up slowly. His knees almost collapsed, but he staggered a few steps, each end of the cat sagging from his arms, and the bleeding increasing.

McCoy followed him, muttering, 'Let's hope that Rigelian cats know about the nine lives rule…'

******

Cikita overflowed the edges of the narrow sickbay examination table. McCoy had to push everything off the large desk, and get Spock to lay the cat on there, her head resting on a box on a chair. This was only a small ship, but McCoy was glad to see every essential instrument was there. The cupboards were almost as well equipped as the ones in his own operating theatre on the _Enterprise_.

The doctor rapidly shaved the blood caked fur away from the injury, and took in the gaping hole in the cat's chest. The injury was not as bad as it would be on a smaller creature, he reasoned. The hole was big, but not in proportion to the cat's body. Spock stood at the cat's head, still gently stroking the contours of the face, letting his fingers sink deep into the soft fur. A hypo sat ready near his hand, for him to administer another shot if the cat stirred.

While McCoy assessed the cat's injuries, Janas was standing deliberately with her back to the animal, cutting Spock's sleeve away and spraying a liberal dose of antiseptic onto the deep wounds. McCoy had laid out a tray of the shots Spock should take before he began on the cat, and Janas began to inject each one in turn into the Vulcan's shoulder. He didn't protest. Rabies was bad enough on Earth, but with a whole galaxy, there were infinite diseases to be caught from animal bites. He knew Cikita was probably as healthy as he was himself, but he was preoccupied with worry over her right now.

As Janas began wrapping a bandage around Spock's arm, McCoy began swabbing some of the blood from Cikita's chest.

'You know, you're lucky that arm's not broken,' he muttered, not looking up. 'With teeth like hers, she could have cracked a bone easily.'

He realised how worried the Vulcan was when he didn't even respond to tell him he should be concentrating on the operation.

'I'm doing all I can, Spock,' he reassured him quietly.

He didn't care now that it was a cat he was operating on. It was a life to him, once he had begun the operation, and he had ceased to care about anything else. He had found the general organs were in much the same layout as Spock's, and now he had to work out just how to repair each mutilated vein and artery.

'No real damage to the organs,' he told the Vulcan. 'A little tear in one lung. I've closed it. Just bad bleeding.'

'We have no other blood,' Spock said flatly.

'I know, Spock. I'm repairing them one at a time. The bleeding gets less with each one.'

The Vulcan leaned forward slightly, looking in through the incision without any sign of squeamishness.

'What are you doing to the heart?'

'Just checking it, Spock,' the doctor muttered, purposefully not looking at the Vulcan. 'Don't watch what I'm doing. Concentrate on her state of unconsciousness. I can't have her even begin to come round. Can't risk her moving.'

As Spock put his gaze back to the cat's eyes, McCoy began to silently sew up a tear in the animal's heart. As he did, the bleeding suddenly got a lot less.

'Janas, go to the bridge,' Spock ordered quietly. 'Ask Alison if she needs my assistance. I also want an update on our position.'

'Yes, sir,' Janas said automatically.

Spock wasn't a commanding officer to her – she was just a passenger on his ship – but the very tone of his voice made her feel like an ensign just learning what life was like in space. *_I would like to join Starfleet_,* she thought silently as she left the room. *_But they would probably not trust a Romulan that far_.*

******

Alison was sitting in the command chair of the _Alcyone_, and looking like she belonged there. On the screen, the _Enterprise_, and the Romulan ship _Fire-Dancer_ hung motionless in space. A rippling surge of red emitted from the Romulan ship, and the _Enterprise_ bucked, but didn't lose any ground. Two white phaser beams abruptly lanced out from the Federation ship, leaving a black scar along the _Fire-Dancer_, but hardly even rocking it.

'I hope no one is killed.'

Alison turned to see Janas in the door, and raised an eyebrow. 'Someone is always killed,' she replied softly. 'Often more than one, on both sides.'

'Then I hope neither ship is destroyed,' she said.

'After visiting Romulus, and meeting you and Haian, it is extremely hard to understand these wars,' Alison told her calmly. 'You are living people. You have thoughts and ideas. You have people that you love. In that, you are identical to humans. It is possible for you to be my friend. As individuals, Romulans and humans could even love each other, but as mass groups, they feel they must kill each other. It is vastly illogical.'

'It is,' Janas nodded with a sad smile. 'Maybe governments should try to make friends, not wars. Alison, I have defected to the Federation, but I don't want those Romulans to die,' she admitted. 'I know what they think they are fighting for.'

'They think they are fighting for freedom,' Alison nodded. 'Freedom which they already have.'

'Freedom and honour.'

'I have never thought that fighting was honourable.'

'Neither have I,' she said, then recalled herself to her purpose on the bridge. 'Alison, Spock sent me for a report of the situation, and to ask if he was needed.'

'He is needed by Cikita, and the doctor. I would not ask him to leave her.'

'I am glad. He does not want to leave her. And the situation report?'

'The _Enterprise_ and the _Fire-Dancer_ seem to be in equal positions. Both have taken shots, but both are giving back what they receive. We now have full shields up, and Suaniak is deeply involved in devising a way to enter the shuttle bay through the _Enterprise_'s shields. The first shot we took did cause some structural damage – the damage that caused the animal to be wounded – but the power of the ship has not been depleted. The second shot came when we had shields up, but not cloaking. It caused some turbulence, but no damage.'

Janas came forward to rest her hands on the back of the command chair, looking pensively at the viewscreen.

'Alison, will one of those ships be destroyed before the fight is over?'

'I do not believe either will back down,' Alison admitted. 'Therefore, one must be totally defeated, or destroyed – and I do not believe that either captain would let his or her ship be taken by the enemy.'

'Then four hundred people will inevitably be killed.'

'Yes,' Alison said tonelessly.

'And we will probably survive.'

'Yes.'

'Alison, neither of those ships can see us now,' Janas pointed out slowly, the glimmer of an idea in her voice.

'_Enterprise_ knows where we are, from the locator chip,' Alison reminded her.

'But the Romulans do not. Alison, could we approach the Romulan ship so as to bring it in range of this ship's weapons, without it knowing we were ever there?'

'We could,' she nodded, 'whilst keeping out of the way of its weapons. But I thought you did not want lives to be lost. We should not enter the fight. We are too small to do any real damage.'

'If we approached very close, could we not fire on an important part of their ship – say, not the engine room, but the very engines themselves? At that range, we could have pinpoint accuracy. We could disable them, killing no one, and then board the _Enterprise_.'

Alison considered the suggestion silently, her eyes fixed on the image on the viewscreen.

'I would only risk one shot,' she said finally. 'If the ship suddenly wheeled about, it could smash us to bits. Or we could even be accidentally hit by a phaser strike from the _Enterprise_. We could not risk it more than once.' She studied the ship on the screen. 'I can knock out one of their warp engines. If I can read Romulans correctly, if I were to damage their weapons system, they would chose to chase the _Enterprise_ and detonate their ship to destroy both, rather than be defeated.'

'They would, yes,' Janas nodded with a wry smile.

'However, if I knock out one warp engine, any attempt to manoeuvre at warp will send them in circles. They will be able to return home on impulse power. No one will be killed.'

'I am glad,' Janas said quietly. 'My sister is on that ship.'


	17. Chapter 17

17.

Spock stood in the tiny sickbay in the _Alcyone_, still with his eyes fixed unwaveringly on Cikita's sleeping face. He did not move when Janas slipped in through the door, but said as if he was on the _Enterprise_, 'Report.'

Janas quickly gave Spock the summary of their situation. When told him cautiously of their plan to attack the Romulan ship, he simply nodded.

'Logical. I am sure Alison will manage it,' he said. 'She is an extremely competent pilot.'

'She seems to fly a lot like you,' McCoy commented, still concentrating fiercely on the cat on the table.

'My father taught us both,' Spock said simply. 'You say Suaniak is considering a way to penetrate _Enterprise_'s shields, Janas,' he commented. 'That is supposed to be impossible.'

'So's flawless cloaking,' McCoy shrugged, as he carefully sewing together another layer of torn muscle. 'And getting close enough to a Romulan ship to take out its warp engine.'

'How is Cikita?' Spock asked abruptly, noticing a minute relaxation in the doctor's attitude.

'Constitution of a Vulcan,' McCoy grunted. 'She's not going to die unless something very bad happens.'

At that moment, one of the severed arteries split again, and a gush of blood hit the doctor in the face, startling him. Spock felt like shouting at him to do something, but had the sense to stay absolutely silent. He stood still by the table, diligently sticking to his job of watching the cat's head for signs of awakening, and hiding his sick worry. Janas held down nausea, grabbing a towel, and wiped the doctor's eyes free of blood.

'Thanks,' McCoy snapped briefly, running the wound sealer again over the artery. The bleeding slowed, and stopped. 'Another few pints of blood gone,' he said apprehensively. 'Spock, I said she was okay, but I'm not sure how much more of this she can take.'

'Can you use her own blood to give to her?' Janas asked him.

'All the blood she's got is pumping round her body,' McCoy muttered. 'The rest is on the floor.'

Janas bent down and lifted a bowl, trying not to look at it herself. While the doctor had been busy operating, she had silently pushed the pre-sterilised bowl under the edge of the desk, so the blood flowed off and into it. She had done it to save the floor from being covered in blood, but now she thought of another reason for the action.

'Will this be infected?' she asked.

McCoy stared into the bowl for a moment in shock. 'God, I didn't know she'd lost so much,' he muttered. 'I've never had to save a patient's own blood to use again. But it won't be any more infected than she is. Everything in here's clean, and I can pass it through the steriliser before it's used. Spock, can you set up a drip?'

'I know how,' Spock nodded.

Janas took his place at the head as he moved away to gather what was needed.

'Will you be able to find the vein?' McCoy asked.

'With your guidance,' he nodded.

As soon as the drip was fixed up, Spock placed both hands lightly on the cat's temples, and closed his eyes, letting his mind sink deep into the animal's, giving the healing strength of his mind to help heal the wounds. Even as McCoy watched, everything began to look a lot better.

******

Alone on the bridge, Alison studied the schematics of the Romulan ship, locating the exact place on the warp engine that she would have to hit with the phasers. It was no good trying to speak to Suaniak. The crystal was only glowing very dully. He was deep in concentration, his great mind calculating and analysing, trying to figure how to take a ship the size of _Alcyone_ through the shields of the _Enterprise_ without destroying either ship.

Alison pinpointed the most vulnerable spot on the Romulan ship, and began to plot the course. _Alcyone_ turned slowly, and flew silently and invisibly towards the _Fire-Dancer_.

******

'Captain, the locator chip is moving,' Uhura broke in through the quiet bustle on the bridge.

Kirk didn't take his eyes from the ship on the viewscreen.

'Thank God they're getting away from here,' he muttered. 'I don't know how much more the ship can take.'

'No, sir. They're not moving away,' Uhura told him anxiously. 'They're moving *_toward* _the Romulan ship.'

Kirk whipped around in his chair. 'Toward it!' he exclaimed. 'What the hell is Spock doing?'

'Sir, it wasn't Spock commanding,' Uhura reminded him. 'It was Mr Spock's niece.'

'No. She was piloting the thing. Spock is still commanding,' he corrected her. 'Uhura, try to raise them. I want to speak to Spock, or that girl, if she's the one who's doing this.'

The communications officer bent over her console for a moment, then turned back.

'She will not acknowledge my call. No! Wait, sir.' She listened for a moment, then relayed the message. 'She says – ' She looked apologetic. '*_Shut up, I am concentrating_*, sir. But, Captain, the Romulan ship won't be able to see them,' she reminded him. 'They're invisible.'

'I know, Uhura, but we can't fire on that ship while they're near it. Damn!' he exclaimed as the _Enterprise_ shuddered under another blow. 'They can sit and fire at us, and we can't do a thing.' He opened a channel to engineering. 'Scotty, how long can we take this?'

There was a pause, then Scotty's voice came on. 'Sir, we can take another three shots. I canna hold the shields up much longer than that – and you know I'd hold them up wi' me bare hands if I could.'

'I know, Scotty,' Kirk smiled. 'I might take you up on that.'

He turned the channel off again, watching the Romulans. There had been a pause after the last shot – obviously they were wondering why _Enterprise_ hadn't fired back, and they were suspicious about it. He leant forward a little in his chair, resting his chin on his hands.

'Captain!' Chekov began.

'I see it, Ensign.'

Kirk stared as phaser beams lanced out of nowhere, somewhere near the back end of the _Fire-Dancer_.

'She's killing their warp engines!' he exclaimed. 'God, they're defeating a ship that's a match for a Constellation class starship!'

The targeted area on the Romulan ship began to glow red, and then white, then the beam broke off, and it faded back to black. The great ship began to slowly turn in circles in space.

'Getting nowhere fast,' Kirk muttered.

'Incoming message!' Uhura broke in. She flipped the speakers on without asking permission. Alison's voice came through.

'... out of here right now. I repeat, _Enterprise_, warp out of here right now. We will follow. We will follow.'

'_Alcyone_, we will lower shields and – '

'She's not receiving your message, sir,' Uhura cut in. 'She's not taking incoming signals.'

'Stubborn as Spock,' Kirk muttered, then grabbed at the arms of his chair as the ship rocked. 'They've still got weapons. Sulu, f – ' He broke off in mid word. 'No. Don't fire. They must have knocked out the engine so we wouldn't have to destroy them. I'm not going to kill any more people than necessary. Sulu, turn the ship around and take us further into Federation territory at warp – '

'We can't, sir,' Sulu told him. 'The last shot took power from the engines. We need at least five minutes to repower.'

'We could be dead in five minutes,' Kirk said grimly.

'The shields will hold for that long, sir,' Sulu said with certainty.

'Good,' Kirk nodded, not questioning that calculation. He trusted his bridge officers. 'We'll divert all unnecessary power to the shields. I guess we just have to sit and wait.'

******

Alison took the _Alcyone_ back out to hover well away from the Romulan and Federation ship, then left the bridge with Suaniak controlling it. When she entered the small sickbay, Janas stopped her with a finger held to her lips. She looked over the girl's shoulder, then tiptoed in. McCoy was sitting slumped in a chair by the desk, fast asleep. Spock was still at the cat's head, but in a chair too, now, still with his hands pressed to the cat's temples, and with his eyes closed, breathing regularly. Cikita seemed to be the only one awake, with one green eye half open, watching the two women. She wasn't trying to move. There was a thick white bandage right around her chest, and the last of the saved blood was flowing down though the drip into her front leg.

'Was it successful?' Alison asked quietly.

Janas nodded. 'The doctor thinks so. They only finished a moment ago. Spock was already asleep though. Asleep or deep in a trance, at any rate – and I made the doctor rest. The animal seems comfortable. I promised I would stay to watch her – in case the bleeding begins again.'

'I should doubt that,' Alison said, eyeing Spock critically. She touched her hand briefly to his black crown of hair. 'I see Spock has been using his mind to help her. But you must stay here. I can manage the ship. I must get back to the bridge now. Suaniak is controlling, and I am not too convinced of his logic in such situations. He says he has almost devised a way to get through the _Enterprise_ shields.'

******

'Captain, I am getting another message from _Alcyone_,' Uhura reported. 'It's Suaniak, sir.'

'Suaniak?' Kirk repeated in surprise. 'Well, put him on.'

'_Enterprise_,' Suaniak's voice said immediately. 'We are ready to board. You will open your shuttlebay doors.'

Kirk tried not to respond angrily at the order Suaniak gave him in a tone which expected to be obeyed.

'Suaniak, we cannot bring you aboard without lowering our shields,' Kirk said patiently. 'There is no way you can get aboard.'

'You will open your shuttlebay doors, human,' the voice said with a little more force. 'We will come aboard through your shields.'

'Suaniak, it is impossible,' Kirk insisted. 'A ship cannot dock with a starship when the shields are raised. The attempt would destroy your ship, and probably ours too.'

'Human, if you do not stop arguing, I will come aboard both through your shields and through your shuttlebay doors, but I fear that would damage your ship. I have made it possible for us to enter the ship while your shields are raised. We have a seriously wounded patient on board, and I believe she should be transferred to your medical facilities. Do you understand?'

'Spock's niece?' Kirk muttered to himself, then immediately ordered, 'Sulu, open the shuttlebay doors.'

'But, sir – '

'Sulu, carry out your orders,' he said with quiet calm. 'Suaniak may not be the most logical of Vulcans, but I'll bet he knows what he's talking about. If they've got a casualty, then we need to trust him, and bring them aboard.'

'Aye, sir,' the helmsman nodded, running his hands over his console. 'Shuttlebay doors opening, Captain. _Alcyone_ is approaching for docking.'

The _Alcyone_ slipped through the _Enterprise_'s shields as if they did not exist, and, as soon as the engines had full power, Kirk ordered Sulu to take the ship away at warp three. He had a medical team standing outside the shuttlebay before the small ship had even boarded, and he was on the way down there himself as soon as he was certain that the _Enterprise_ would escape the Romulan vessel.

Acknowledging its inability to give chase deep into Federation space, the _Fire-Dancer_ returned home to the Romulan Empire with tales of new Federation inventions that made their ships totally invisible, and that enabled them to pass through raised shields.

******

As soon as the shuttlebay was repressurised, Kirk dashed through the door, beckoning the medical team to follow him. Spock appeared in the hatchway of his ship as calmly as if he had just come back from a short tour of Federation space, dressed entirely in black.

'Captain Kirk,' he said with familiar, calm dignity, as soon as he saw the captain.

Kirk strode forward quickly to meet him.

'Spock, I should be yelling and screaming at you and throwing you in the brig after what you've been doing,' he exclaimed, taking hold of his arms with both hands. 'But I don't have the authority – and I'm just too pleased to see you alive.'

'Thank you, sir,' Spock said gently. 'I must admit, it is something of a relief to be back on the _Enterprise_.' He looked back towards his ship. 'And the _Alcyone_ does need some repairs.'

'Spock, who's your casualty?' Kirk asked quickly. 'Who was hurt?'

'Casualty?' the Vulcan echoed, then an eyebrow raised. 'Oh! Dr McCoy has already operated, sir, and she is doing well. She should recover.' He held out a hand as Alison descended the last steps of the ship. 'This is my niece, Miss Alison Grayson.'

'Pleased to meet you,' Kirk smiled briefly, shaking her hand. 'You piloted the ship in here yourself?'

'Affirmative,' she nodded gravely. 'It is quite simple.'

Kirk stared at the woman a moment, then turned to Spock.

'Spock – who's your casualty?' he asked in puzzlement, glancing at the waiting medical team. 'Who else?'

Spock turned to the medical team. 'If you will go up into the ship, Dr McCoy will take you to the patient. You will not need the stretcher. She will be taken care of, Captain,' he assured Kirk.

'Good. And who's this?' Kirk asked suddenly, as Janas stepped cautiously out of the ship.

Spock began to look vaguely guilty.

'An unauthorised passenger, sir. She is distantly related to me by blood, and she seeks asylum in the Federation.'

The captain suddenly seemed very unsteady, and Spock caught hold of his elbow.

'Captain?' he asked anxiously.

'Not another of them,' he sighed. 'Spock, the ship is full of Romulan refugees. Eight of them. Or eight and a half. One of them is pregnant.'

'You will not send me back?' Janas asked, her face paling. 'Please. You cannot send me back.'

The girl suddenly reminded Kirk of someone, but he couldn't put a finger on it.

'We won't send you back,' he told her firmly. 'One more won't make much of a difference. Spock will allocate you quarters near the other refugees.'

'Thank you,' she said gratefully.

'Now, Spock,' Kirk began. 'Will you please tell me who else you've got up there? Who's your casualty?'

Dr McCoy was stepped down onto the shuttlebay floor with a wide smile. 'Don't worry, Jim. It's all under control.'

'Bones!' Kirk grinned. 'It's good to have you back, too.'

'It's good to be back,' McCoy said earnestly. 'But I don't mind saying – after being interrogated by Romulan police and being dumped in assault cells, anything would seem great.'

'Police?' Kirk echoed, looking between McCoy and the Vulcan and wondering how it was that Spock and McCoy together seemed to get into fifteen times the trouble they normally did if he was there.

'That can all be explained later, sir,' Spock told him. 'This is our casualty, sir,' he said, nodded towards the _Alcyone_'s hatch.

'What - ?' Kirk began, as an enormous, long, black cat stepped unsteadily, but elegantly out of the ship. The whole of her chest was covered in a thick white bandage, and her eyes were blinking sleepily, but she still managed to look proud and dignified. She seemed a little too groggy to really protest at the hands of the medical team that were holding her steady.

'This is Cikita,' McCoy said. He crouched down as the cat swayed across the floor to him, and rubbed under her chin with a grin. 'She's a twenty stone kitten with paws the size of bricks. Who only speaks Vulcan.'

The cat drew back her lips, and growled as Kirk came forward.

'Oh, yes. And she'd kill for Spock,' McCoy finished. 'And me now, probably. Everyone who meets her has to be formally introduced, or else kept at twelve paces.'

'I see.' Kirk backed away a little. 'Spock, you couldn't consider introducing us?'

'Certainly, sir,' Spock nodded. He knelt down by the cat and spoke very quietly in her ear. 'You should offer your hand for her to smell, sir,' he told Kirk, looking up.

'Sure she won't bite it off?' he asked doubtfully.

'Positive, sir.'

'Okay.'

Kirk held out his hand to the cat, she sniffed it, then turned away disdainfully.

'She has acknowledged you, sir,' Spock told him.

'Pity she doesn't like me.'

'Jim, you should be glad,' McCoy told him earnestly. 'Do you know what it's like to have a cat this size sit on your lap? Or wash you? Or sleep on your bed? She can knock you over just by rubbing up against you.'

'I don't suppose you can ride her?' Kirk asked, looking at the cat anew.

'She would likely toss you off and break your back,' Spock said seriously. 'I would not advise it.'

'Well… I'll talk to you later about panicking the whole bridge over a cat,' Kirk said sternly.

'It was Suaniak who stated it was an emergency. And she was seriously wounded, sir,' Spock told him. 'She is walking upright, but that is only because of the animal instinct to move as soon as possible after injury.'

'Not to mention that she's too heavy to go on the stretcher,' McCoy put in. 'You'd think it was more serious if you'd lived with her for a few weeks, Jim. She's part of the crew.'

'What happened to her?' Kirk asked seriously. 'She doesn't look like she should be standing up.'

'She should not,' Spock said. He gently put his hand on the cat's shoulder, and she sank to the floor without protest. 'She was injured in the first phaser attack.'

'Looks like the wall buckled,' McCoy said. 'It smashed her whole chest in. Broke most of the ribs on one side, and they damaged her lung and heart. There was a gaping great hole in her chest.'

'I should be careful at letting too many people get close to her,' Spock warned seriously. 'She is still tender about the injury. She is still affected by the anaesthetic at the moment, but as she recovers, she will undoubtedly become more hostile. Now, if you will excuse me, sir, I will leave the cat in Dr McCoy's capable hands, and take Miss Ztaran to her quarters.'

Kirk began to repeat, 'Miss Ztaran?' but Spock had already led the girl out of the door. The name seemed ever so familiar. 'Bones, what about that cat?' he asked, shaking the thought from his mind.

'She'll be okay in sickbay, Jim,' McCoy told him. 'I can take one of the single rooms, and convert it into a kind of animal recovery room. It'll be fine as long as the door's clearly marked. We can't have any of the nurses getting their arms bitten off.'

'And where will she go after that?' Kirk asked.

'She lives on Spock's ship, wherever it goes. She's not really Spock's cat - although I guess he'd be held responsible for her actions if she did anything wrong. It's just that his ship's her home.'

'She looks after herself?'

'Mostly,' he nodded. 'Or whoever's looking after the ship looks after her. I'm going to tranquillise her now, Jim, then we can move her to sickbay without her hurting anyone.'

******

'These are the officers' quarters,' Spock said as he walked down one of _Enterprise_'s curving corridors with Janas. He indicated a door on his right. 'These are my quarters, if you wish to find me while you are on the ship. The captain's are just next door.'

'Your name is on the door,' she said, seeing the black name-plate beside the door with his name etched on it in white letters.

'With the more permanent people on the ship - mostly the officers - it helps to have the names on the door,' he nodded. 'It makes it simpler for a person to find, say, the captain, without having the recall a long room number.'

'Numbers are easy to remember, and do not have to be changed when the crew is changed,' Janas pointed out.

'Your mind is Vulcanoid. Human minds are not so reliable.'

'You said – the more permanent people on the ship. Do people change ships so often?'

Spock hesitated a moment. 'There are certain crewmembers, such as the security guards, who are – less likely – to stay for many years.'

'You mean because they are killed?'

'Yes,' the Vulcan nodded. 'They are killed. It is their job to protect the other members of the crew. Ah.' He stopped in the corridor, a few hundred metres down from his room. 'These are the guest quarters, Janas. I am afraid that the rooms are rather full right now. By moving partitions we may block off certain areas, so you have your own sleeping area, but you must share the living area with two others.'

'Two others? Do you know their names?'

'I have not had time to look up names, Janas. I only know that there are two other people in this room, male and female.'

Spock knocked softly at the door, and it slid aside. He waited for Janas to enter, but she seemed to be frozen as she stared through the open doorway. He touched her arm.

'Tijanas, these are your rooms. You may enter. Janas? Is something wrong?'

Spock looked past her into the room. The female occupant of the room was sitting in a chair with almost the same frozen expression. Janas's mouth worked for a moment, then she asked;

'Sanah?'

The woman in the chair got slowly to her feet, and stood there, then she rushed forward.

'Janas! It is you! How did you ever - ?'

Spock stepped back, rather embarrassed, as the two women hugged each other tightly, the rest of the world blanked out to them for a moment. At last, Janas stood back, her whole face smiling.

'Oh, Spock, I am sorry,' she gasped. 'Spock, this is Sanah!'

'I recall that was the name of your sister,' Spock nodded with complete calm. 'Was the _Fire-Dancer_ your ship, Ms Ztaran?'

'Yes, it was,' the woman said briefly, then turned back to Janas. 'Oh, Janas, I thought I would never see my family again. But what of Haian? Is he here too?'

'No,' she said with a moment of regret in her voice. 'He is still on Romulus. But we have other family here, San.' She turned back to Spock. 'Sanah, you must meet our extremely distant cousin, Spock.'

Sanah eyed Spock for a moment. 'Janas, he is a Vulcan.'

'Nevertheless, I am related,' Spock said solemnly. 'Although I doubt any kind of tests could prove the link. I am pleased to meet you, Ms Ztaran.'

'You will call me Sanah,' she said firmly. 'If we really are related. I see no reason why you should lie about this.'

'Of course he is not lying,' Janas smiled. 'Spock has been to Romulus. He met Haian and me there. I hid on his ship when he returned. But - it is very hard to explain, Sanah, but we will be able to speak to our family in a certain manner. There is a king of Vulcan. He is long dead - but his spirit - his katra - that is living - and - and - I will explain everything to you later, sister.'

'I should think you better,' Sanah said, looking bewildered. 'Janas, I am here with Reian. And there will be still more family here soon. You are fast becoming an aunt, and I am fast becoming a mother.'

'You bear a child?' Janas asked in amazement.

She nodded. 'It is why we had to leave the Empire, Janas. They would not allow the pregnancy.'

'Spock, did you know who was in the room? Truthfully?' Janas asked, turning to the Vulcan.

'Truthfully, I did not,' Spock said honestly. 'It would seem that good fortune brought you together with your sister.'

******

Kirk and Spock were relaxing in the Vulcan's quarters for the first time in some weeks, sipping at glasses of Romulan ale. They were seated on two large Vulcan-style cushions on the floor, either side of the long black form that was Cikita. Spock's hand was buried in the deep fur, looking as if it had disappeared into a genuine black hole. The bandage was gone, and fur had rapidly covered the shaved area of the wound again.

'They recover almost as fast as Vulcans,' Kirk said idly, watching the cat.

'Captain?' Spock asked him, cocking an eyebrow.

'Your cat. It didn't take long before the wound healed.'

'Indeed,' the Vulcan nodded. 'Although she is still a little weak.'

'At least she's finally accepted me, though.'

'I have found that most people do finally accept you, Captain,' Spock said, and Kirk shot him a look.

'I'm not sure if I've been insulted or not, Mr Spock.'

'No insult was intended. It took most of the crew a little time to adjust to you when you came aboard the _Enterprise_ as the new captain.'

'Including yourself. I recall there were cats and Vulcans involved then, too. That was a long time ago, Mr Spock.'

Spock cocked his head to the side. 'A relatively short span of time when viewed against the length of a Vulcan or human life.'

'And here we are, sitting on Vulcan bean bags, the best of friends,' Kirk said sentimentally. 'Whoever would have guessed?'

'I would not be surprised if Dr McCoy had – hedged a few bets, sir.'

'Last time I saw you in this room, Spock, you were face down on the floor,' Kirk said sombrely. 'You'd just tried to end your life.'

Spock swallowed the sip of ale he had just taken rather stiffly. Kirk saw the Vulcan's free hand slip in under his other sleeve, tracing over the scars that had almost disappeared, and he suddenly regretted reminding Spock of that right now.

'That was another time,' the Vulcan said simply, his eyes focused on some point deep in the opposite wall.

'Yes.'

Kirk knew what he meant. He'd come through that now, and survived, and he didn't want to go back to thinking about it. It did seem like another time now.

'Spock, don't you ever want someone to speak Vulcan to?' the captain asked his friend abruptly.

He thought he saw the Vulcan look grateful for the change of subject.

'I grew up speaking English as naturally as Vulcan. I had to, for my mother spoke English. It is not easy for a human to speak Vulcan.'

'But don't you ever want to be with someone with the same customs and beliefs, Spock?' he asked idly, sipping at his drink.

'Why should I desire that, Captain, when I have friends here?' Spock said smoothly.

'And they say that Vulcans don't have emotions,' Kirk half-laughed, taking another sip of the smooth Romulan ale.

He closed his eyes and leant his head back against the wall, letting the warmth from the cat beside him spread through his bones. Spock glanced across at him, then followed his lead, relaxing back into the cushion, and shutting his eyes against the light. All his shifts were over for the day, and it wouldn't hurt to sleep for just a little while. It was good to be able to sleep in safety and calm, and safety and calm were all that surrounded him now.


End file.
